To Go Beyond
by Emmithar
Summary: -Second story in 'Boundaries of Brotherhood' series-Questions of trust and loyalty arise when there is a difference seen between the group, forcing them apart, and a friend on the inside can make all the difference between a victory and a defeat.
1. Chapter 1

**To Go Beyond**

**Author: **Emmithar

**Rating: **K+

**Summary: **Questions of trust and loyalty arise when there is a difference seen between the group, forcing them apart, and a friend on the inside can make all the difference between a victory and a defeat. With the stakes rising, can Robin pull his gang back together before lives are lost?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Robin Hood BBC and I am making no money what-so-ever off of this. It is purely for enjoyment.

**A/N: **Sequel to Breaking Point, heading more towards the second season (at least camp-wise). The story will make a lot more sense if you read the first story first. Any questions or comment feel free to send a message or review. Other than that, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One: Change of Pace**

The spring began with the blossoming of the first buds, signaling an end to a harsh and long winter. With each passing day the rays of sun were cast over the land, slowly warming the ground and all those who lived upon it. It was a refreshing start, a reminder that life still continued to spin an everlasting web, holding strong till the next day after. For some, the warmth of spring brought more than comfort, it brought hope as well.

Game was slowly returning to the Sherwood Forest, bringing in more food for the market, for those who could afford it was a blessing. For those who could not, they didn't dwell in despair, but instead turned their effort to work in the gardens, hoping for a good crop that year. They knew in the meantime, their trust would have to rely on certain band of outlaws. In truth, there were very few who would have ever considered criminals a good thing.

But Robin was a good man; they all knew that; and they trusted the men that followed him. For many years, villages such as Locksley and Nettlestone had suffered quietly; but fate had started to change since the man's return. When food could not be given, then it was money, clothing, or even valuable goods that could be bartered for some. And in rare cases, words of hope, with promises that things would better in due time.

The winter, however, had left many hungry and Robin short on appearances. There were some who worried, but many more who seemed to understand that times were rough. With the days getting longer though, everyone grew more hopeful.

In the midst of the forest, the sunlight peeked through the branches that were beginning to adorn their leaves once more, casting a shaded effect upon the ground. The steady footfalls of the hoofed animal echoed easily, the purse of money swaying against the horse's flank. The path was worn, signaling it had been traveled many times, and if the rider knew of any danger lurking, he didn't show it.

Instead he continued on, not even slowing at the slight rustle in the bushes, nor did he even turn as it grew louder. It was as he was approaching the bend that the figure darted out, clear into the path of the horse. The animal reared, acting on instinct as the man used all his power to calm the frightened creature. All around him now were more men, arrows notched and weapons drawn.

"Robin!" he cursed, holding onto the reigns tightly, stilling the creature beneath him. He let out a breath, patting the animal gently as he did so.

The outlaw smiled, coming up alongside him. "I hardly recognized you, all dressed up. Important meeting at the castle?"

"Robin, I come this way twice a month, four if you actually count coming and leaving…"

"And yet you still haven't found a way to avoid me? It almost seems like you want to get caught."

"This is the shortest path," Collin told him, "I am not going to travel days out of my way just to run into you in the end."

"Ah," Robin nodded thoughtfully, stroking the horse tenderly. "So you do want to be caught," his hand lingered on the purse. "More taxes?"

"Robin…"

But the man had already unhooked it, spilling the contents into his hand. "This could feed every family in a single village for a week."

"I've already given you my collection last month; the Sheriff will know something is not right."

"The Sheriff," Will cut in, coming up alongside Robin, "will not know unless you tell him. He knows the winter was hard; many do not have the money to pay their taxes."

"But the craftsman does; the Sheriff knows that is where the money went, he will be expecting it."

"Then we will halve it, just like last time," Robin told him, sliding some of the money back into the bag.

"We will?" Will asked him skeptically. "What happened to take all and leave nothing behind?"

"We will start that with our next visitor," Robin clapped him on the back, "Right now, I believe Much was getting breakfast ready."

"Eggs, bacon," Much nodded eagerly, "a glorious breakfast."

"Will you be joining us Collin?" Robin wondered.

"It is stolen food Robin," the man protested quietly.

"Food that Sheriff stole in the first place."

"Does this mean that two thefts make a right then?" Much asked.

"That's two wrongs make a right," Allan told him, shaking his head.

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Djaq cut him off, "Three lefts make a right."

"That doesn't even make sense," Allan protested.

"Really," Much agreed, "who would go left three times when you can go right the first time?"

"Exactly," Allan nodded, only to frown as he turned to Much. "What?"

"It's true, try it if you don't believe me," she challenged them.

"I'm not going to try it," Allan huffed.

"That's because you don't believe it's true," Much pointed at him.

"Then you try it."

"I'm not going to try it, she told you to try it first."

"There's no point, it's like…walking around in circles."

"Should be easy for you then."

"Alright, both of you," Robin broke in, shaking his head. "On second thought Collin, I might just travel to the castle with you."

"You would be hanged," Collin reminded him.

"Far worse punishment to stay here and listen to them," Robin muttered to him quietly. "Will you be joining us then?"

Collin nodded after a sigh, dismounting as he did so. "Breakfast, does sound nice."

"Come then, we will be glad for the company."

He shouldered his bow, following the others as the left the trail, heading back to the woods. Collin was behind him, leading his horse, allowing Will to catch up with Robin.

"What are we doing?"

"I believe, Will, that we are going to have some breakfast. After months of dried bread, and whatever that was Much had us eat, some real food, would be nice."

"I meant about him," Will nodded over his shoulder. "Robin, he's working for the Sheriff."

"He is working for King Richard; aside from that, he is a friend. Why should he be treated any differently?"

"He is collecting taxes for the Sheriff, carrying out orders for the Sheriff; he is working for the Sheriff. And friend or not; if he was anyone else you would have cleaned out his entire purse. Now, not only are we allowing him to take half the money back, but we are feeding him as well."

"Have you forgotten what he's done for us?" Robin asked him quietly, meeting his gaze.

"No," Will shook his head, turning away. "But one good deed does not allow him to continue to switch sides. Either he is on our side, or the Sheriff's. He can't be both."

"At the moment, Collin is our way inside the castle. I do not want to break that trust. He is a good man."

"So are you," Will reminded him, "but you are forgetting why we are here. That money should be going to the poor; so should the food. Not to soldiers who will easily sup later at the castle. They eat more like Kings than King Richard himself, I'll promise you."

Robin came to a stop, turning to face him. "I will keep that in mind then. Until then, you will do as I say, and right now, I say we are going to enjoy a good meal. We will worry about our food stores, and where they go, afterwards. You are too tense my friend, you must relax."

* * *

They all ate heartily, having naught such a meal for a long time. A small fire, licking at fresh cut wood served as the center of the group, several light conversations floating around it. They too could feel the change in seasons, and they as well could feel the joy and hope flowing back into a frozen forest, promising a better future in turn.

The last few weeks had been the hardest; there was no mistake in that. Robin had spent most of his time recovering from the recent events, all the while fighting the urge to do more. Will and the others meanwhile had attended to building a new camp. It was Will's idea for the design, and a rather good one, he would have to admit.

The latest bit had come to Robin after breaking free of the Sheriff's and Gisborne's hold. They needed somewhere safe, somewhere secret to stay. Moving the camp continually was too straining on the group. With Will's knowledge in carpentry and construction, he soon had the idea for a camp that could be easily concealed with the turn of a hand. Even Collin was quite impressed by the display, not having seen the camp until he was nearly upon it.

No more would one have to remain awake at night to keep watch. They could all sleep soundly without fear of being discovered, and keeping extra stock and store of clothing, medical supplies and weaponry would come easy now. They would no longer have to carry it around, or attempt to find a place to store it.

Their food store places, however, still existed. Several holds and areas hidden by rocks, or traps that had been dug underground. It was safer that way, and could hold quite a bit more food than their camp, however impressive it was. It also made travel easier; several holds were set up near the towns and villages. No longer did they have the need to travel clear across the forest lugging heavy loads around. Best of all…if one store happened to be found, they still had backups in other places. And the time to move their store to a new location if necessary.

For the moment though, most of their stores were empty. The food they were savoring now had been collected earlier from the castle store room. Though they couldn't take all of it, they were able to help themselves to a bountiful feast. What they didn't eat this morning would go to the villages later, and was waiting in a storeroom near Nettlestone to be distributed.

Robin had finished what food he had taken, leaning back on his elbows as he watched the rest of his men. Their spirits had lifted with the coming of spring, and even now it was easy to see that this small feast was doing them well. For a long while, they had been hovering over him, not that the man could blame them. It had been difficult for a short time to keep up to par with his strength and agility, but all of that was returning now that his wounded body was nearly healed.

The wounds to his back had healed the quickest, but it had been the injury to his side that slowed him down the most. Twice now Djaq had to put the stitching back in due to his carelessness; moving about the forest wasn't first rate recommendation for healing a stab wound. But having the stitching put back in a second time with no wine to dull the senses had served as a faithful reminder to take it easy. There were, of course, different perspectives of what that word meant exactly.

For what little bit Robin did now often struck an argument within the group. Robin had been patient, but as always it wasn't something that lasted forever. He wanted to be doing more, with less hassle from the group, however well they meant. It was difficult for him to concentrate with them hovering so; Much and Will being the most famous culprits of that lately.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew they were right in a sense. He still wasn't fully recovered. Robin noticed it the most towards the end of the day, more so if they had been traveling between the villages. Worse, he noticed it each time he readied his bow. He could still shoot…it just took more effort to hold still; and even after a few rounds he had found himself having to give up and rest. If the others noticed…they hadn't said anything.

Little John had been the quietest of them all, either knowing Robin's mind of wanting to be left alone, or perhaps it was just because of his very nature. Allan would remind him from time to time, whereas Djaq would scold him if he got too carried away, having fallen into a routine of wanting to check his wound every night. For Much and Will…Robin had continually gotten an earful from the both of them near every passing day. It was in Much's nature, and something Robin was naturally used to, but the added attention of Will seemed to grind on his nerves.

Robin wasn't the type of man to draw attention to himself, at least not in this sort. He enjoyed the respect and love of the populace and people he took care of; but he needn't them worry over him. Robin could take care of himself; he had done so before and could do so again; he just needed the time.

"Where will you go after this?"

Collin had broken in his thoughts, provoking a light shrug from him. "The villagers will be hungry in due time…we will use the money you so generously gave us to barter for more food, we should be ready to make several drops by the end of the week."

"The end of this week?" Will questioned, finishing the last bit of meat on his plate. "I thought we would be going today, or tomorrow for sure."

"We don't have enough food," Robin shook his head, "When we make a drop we do it evenly, so not arouse suspicion among the guards or cause jealously between the villages."

"Jealousy? This isn't competition Robin; we should give out what we have now; the rest later when we get it."

Robin nodded, sitting up. "I know you want to help Will, but keep in mind we still need food for ourselves. Plus if we make our first drop, and have to wait a day or two to make the next drop, and if we continue on like that, the first village will need another food drop before we are even done. It is easier to do it all at once."

"So until then they just starve?"

Robin let out a sigh, arms resting on his knees. "No one is starving Will. Food is scare, but not that scare. A drop at the end of this week would do them well."

Robin kept a firm tone, not breaking eye contact with him. He knew how Will felt, and understood his feelings on the matter, but Robin had been going over it in his mind for days now. One full day of making drops was easier and safer for everyone; rather than scattered attempts. If the Sheriff or Gisborne caught word of their doings, and realized only half the villages had been done, it would be all the easier for them to set a trap. And a trap was the last thing Robin wanted to fall in to.

Will shook his head quietly, turning away from Robin's gaze with quiet murmurs that could only be heard by himself. Robin never asked anyone to agree with his plans or reasoning, but he did expect them not to question them. Letting out a breath he turned to face Collin.

"When will you be back this way again?"

"I won't be," Collin responded quietly. "I'm being moved."

"Where?"

"Locksley," Collin answered softly.

"Let me guess," Robin leaned his head back. "Guy of Gisborne?"

"The choice is not mine Robin," Collin reminded him. "My duties are to Nottingham, to the castle. I will go wherever I am told to go, and work where they wish me to work. I am an honest man, I pay my own way."

"What about the Holy Land? You said you wanted to venture there to fight along with your father."

"In due time," Collin told him quietly. "For now…someone must look after the house."

"War is not as glorious as you would think it my friend," Robin finally said. "You would do more good here."

"In the forest you mean?" Collin laughed, "Not a life I would live; being known as an outlaw."

"Yet you help unsavory criminals all the time," he chided, holding the coins up. "You know, helping criminals technically makes you a criminal yourself."

"Only if you're caught by the law," Collin reminded him. "I should be going; I'm late as it is."

"We will see you out then, and take what food you didn't finish. It would only go to waste here," Robin encouraged him, moving to his feet.

"Would not," Much muttered quietly, standing as well.

"You can't tell me you're hungry again," Robin shook his head, staring at the other man. "This is already the second time you've eaten this morning."

"I see it as making up for lost time," the man responded, "For ever…meal…I missed, now I'm hungry again."

"Robin, it is fine," Collin laughed, mounting his horse, "I am not poor, neither am I starving."

"Alright," Robin nodded, walking alongside him as he led his horse out. "You have a safe journey my friend, and I might just drop by Locksley sometime soon."

"You just be careful," Collin warned him, dropping his voice. "I would not soon see you in another situation like when we first met."

"Duly noted," Robin answered with a small smile. "Locksley is still my home; I know my way around there fairly well."

"You know that wasn't what I meant."

Robin only grinned, "Until then, my men and I have work to do."

**TBC**


	2. Reflections

**Chapter Two: Reflections **

Night came quickly, as it still seemed to do in the early part of the year. Robin and his men had already bedded down for the night, having a warm meal in their stomachs to hold them through the night. There was an air of safety felt between them, the feelings of tension and worry long gone. Robin pulled his hood up further to conceal his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he closed his eyes. It was only moments later that he could feel the bedding shift as Much laid down next to him.

The close quarters kept them all warm, and Robin actually preferred it that way, having spent so many years sleeping in the Holy Lands. There were many nights he and his companions had slept back to back, sharing what body heat they had to stave off the never ending chill that was cast upon the land at darkness. Along with warmth, it also provided safety. The same safety Robin felt now, and he let out a placid sigh.

"You don't think he will tell him, do you?"

Robin opened an eye warily at the question, turning to him. "Who will tell what?'

"Gisborne," Much responded, "our camp?"

Robin's brow furled as he tried to muddle through the man's words. He was already tired, and half the time Robin wasn't certain if Much actually made any sense or not. "What?"

"No one knows where our camp is save for us…and Collin."

"So?" Robin shook his head, closing his eyes again.

"So what if he tells Gisborne now that he's working for him?"

"And what reason would he have for doing so?"

"Well…because he's Gisborne's man now…sort of like a code of conduct or something."

Robin snorted, shaking his head. He opened his eyes, meeting Much's gaze briefly. "I have a code of conduct as well; it is called 'go to sleep'."

The response evoked quiet laughter from among the group, bringing a smile to Robin's lips even as he closed his eyes once again. But the response only seemed to fuel Much's need to continue.

"Laugh now, but you won't be laughing when he brings Gisborne back here with an army…an army of men…nasty men. Then we'll be arrested…and hanged…I hate being hanged…"

"Much," Robin cut him off firmly. "Enough. Go to sleep."

"I can't sleep now," the man huffed, "not when he's out there, knowing our secret…we should move the camp."

"Much, shut up," Allan muttered harshly, his own voice strenuous and tired.

"Go, to sleep," Robin told him again, meeting his gaze this time. Much stared back , moving to speak again but Robin was quick to cut him off. "Now."

It was only when he complied that Robin lay back down, closing his eyes. He knew that he needed the sleep if they were to head off early to the villages the next day. The others would be fine, he knew, but for himself, he would be lagging behind unless he got his rest now. The silence was welcoming, the soft sounds of the forest a familiar piece of music by now, something as natural as the quiet breaths of his companions, the soft snores, the…

"But what if he does tell?"

Robin let out a sigh, groaning as he did so. "Much, for the love of King Richard, will you just go to sleep?"

"I'm being serious," Much pointed out.

"So am I," Robin answered, moving to his feet.

"Where are you going?" It was Will who had spoken now, moving to sit up.

"Somewhere quiet."

Robin didn't wait for anyone to respond, and if they did, he was gone before he could hear them. The night air greeted him fiercely as he left the warm confinements of the camp, moving in and out the trees in a zigzagged pattern, fighting off a yawn as he continued to walk.

Overhead the skies were clear, the moon shining down; its nearly full frame provided adequate light in the darkness. Even so it was hard to see exactly where he was going, but Robin pressed on with his solitary walk, needing to calm down.

He could feel the ground start to level out, knowing now that he had reached the bottom of the hill. With a sigh he eased himself down, leaning against a tree as he brought his knees up against his chest. Already the chill of the night was starting to get to him, and Robin hugged his knees trying to provide the little bit of warmth he desired.

Though he held a certain kind of love for the man that had become his friend, he also held a sort of disdain for him as well. Much knew no limits, most certainly at times when it was most needed. While the others couldn't yet fully trust Collin, Robin had believed his own trust was enough to convince Much. The others hadn't been there when Collin and Sarah had found him, they hadn't been there when slipped outside the dungeon…they hadn't been there when Robin had his first taste of freedom and fresh air. In the short time Robin had come to fully trust the other man…

He let out a sigh, pressing his forehead to his knees. "You can come out, I know you're there."

The footfalls he had barely heard were more than distinguishable now, his follower no longer trying to stay hidden as they drew closer.

"I'm not going anywhere," Robin said curtly, scowling as he turned away.

"Good, but that is not why I came."

He turned to face her, the anger still on his face. "Why did you come then?"

"You are angry," Djaq told him softly, sitting near him.

"Obviously," Robin shook his head. The last thing he needed was the obvious pointed out.

"And you moved quickly," she continued, "I need to check your stitching, make sure you did not break it again."

"It's fine."

"That's what you said last time; it was not fine then."

"Leave it," Robin told her coldly, his voice barely above a whisper, "and leave me. I do not need any supervision."

His words did not seem to bother her. "And so you believe last time; you were nearly killed."

He turned on her quickly, "I've nearly been killed many times," he reminded her, "No one got after me so; not like now."

"You are angry because we care?"

"No," Robin shook his head, "I am angry that everyone feels the need to watch after me. I am angry because everyone questions my word. That no one trusts my decisions and I am angry because no matter what I do, I cannot even get the moment of solitude that I so desperately seek. Sometimes I wonder why I choose to even stay here."

"You do not care about us?"

Robin let out a sigh, forcing himself to calm down. "I did not mean that."

"But you feel it," she pressed, the hurt obvious in her voice.

Robin shook his head slowly, closing his eyes. How could he explain what was in his heart and on his mind? Could he even do so without losing rational thought?

"I feel so many things," Robin confessed quietly after a moment had passed. "I am angry…not at you, or the others, but at myself for allowing things to come to this. I am tired…tired of not being trusted…and I…I am afraid. Afraid that one day we will fail in this…afraid that King will not return…afraid that…"

"You will lose the trust of your people?"

Robin swallowed quietly, nodding. Somehow it made it easier that he didn't have to say it. "They will know what happened before long; they will know Gisborne and his men bested me. They will wonder why…"

He shook his head, letting out a sigh; he could not finish. "It does not matter."

"They will wonder why you do not kill him?"

Robin nodded solemnly, "Sometimes I wonder it myself," he laughed bitterly, "you must think me a coward."

"Not a coward," Djaq shook her head. "A fool maybe, but not a coward."

"And this is supposed to cheer me up?" Robin wondered.

"No," Djaq smiled at him. "It is only the truth. The killing of men, it does not make a difference. How many men have been killed already, and yet the war still goes on?"

"In war, the reality that you would face the same man more than once in a rare one; and even so you wouldn't recognize him."

"You recognized Gisborne," Djaq told him. "He was in the war. He bested you then, still you faced up to him."

It was true, and something he had never thought about. Slowly he nodded, resting his chin on his knees. "I will have to face him again; I don't know if I will have the courage to do so."

"You will; you have us."

Robin smiled, turning to meet her gaze. "And all of you have been loyal; I had no reason to become angry. Forgive me."

"You have no reason to hide from us," she told him, moving to her feet. "Are you coming?"

"In a moment; I need some time."

He expected her to argue, so it was a surprise when she simply nodded instead. Robin watched her leave, letting out his own sigh as he closed his eyes. If things were ever going to get back to normal, the man knew he had to stay strong until then.

* * *

Morning coming was both a blissful and yet unwelcoming event. He was tired, and stiff from the short night's sleep. Never having returned to the camp Robin was surprised no one had come looking for him. Then again he hadn't meant to fall asleep where Djaq had left him. He quickly shook off the feeling the best he could, heading back to wake the others.

Whether they knew of his absence during the night or not, he could not be sure, and he wasn't going to willingly divulge the information. It had not been smart on his part, he knew that; and he wasn't going to give them yet another reason to harp on him. No one asked though, not even Djaq who eyed him suspiciously. Robin had met her glare only briefly, then chose to ignore it.

By the time the sun was high overhead they had left camp, breaking up into smaller groups as they reached the villages. Robin carried a small money bay with him, Much next to him as they entered Knighton Hall. The damage that was done that one night could be seen, several of the houses still in ruins, some past repair. It would take months, he knew, before everything would be as it once was.

In his heart though, he knew that it never would be the same. Even as he walked through the village, the streets were clouded with dust and smoke, and the air filled with silent cries from the victims. Robin could still remember it vividly, and he shook his head, trying to banish the memory.

"Robin? No one thought we would see you around here so soon."

Robin smiled as he came up along the fence, resting against it. "Joseph; it has been some time."

"The Sheriff's men told us you were dead; after all you've done…I didn't want to believe it. All of us, we were overjoyed when we heard it was not true."

"How are you holding up?" Robin asked instead, barely hearing the comment.

Joseph let out a sigh, shaking his head. He was an older man, still able to carry his own weight, but the years were starting to get to him. "It has been hard…she was to get married, you know. My daughter Ann…"

"My men told me," Robin whispered sympathetically. He had first heard of her death only days after escaping the castle dungeons. The same young woman who had given him a flicker of hope, who had made it to the forest to warn his men. The gang had found her, but by that time she was already dead.

"They gave her a burial; she was a good woman, I'm sorry."

Joseph nodded, glancing at him. "She was not the only one who died Robin. There are many of us…we lost many that night. Maybe all of us would have died…if it was not for you. We were never told why it happened; many are leaving, they are afraid."

"They shouldn't have to live in fear," Robin told him.

"No…but we've been through similar bouts…and we have always pulled through. With so many hurting, it's hard. Today is market day Robin, what food I have…I've been giving so much of it away. No one can afford to buy it. They lost husbands, fathers…and they lost wives and children. Some do not wish to work because they have no reason for it any longer."

"What little you do helps Joseph," he nodded towards him. "Everyone is struggling. The winter was hard."

"The Sheriff's men are coming later to buy the rest of my meat. They are offering to pay double what I charge."

"They are desperate then," Robin let out a sigh, coming to terms with how bad things actually were. "If the Sheriff gets a hold of the food…no one in your village will eat."

"Call me heartless Robin, but I can use that money. Tax collections were not spared just because what has happened."

"I know, but what little bit you give, can help out a lot."

Joseph smiled at him, shaking his head. "I suppose I can give you half my stock…then sell the rest to the guards. Just tell them that the winter killed off most of the livestock."

"Thank you, my friend," Robin nodded towards him, pulling out a few coins. "For your loss."

But he only shook his head, refusing to take them. "I will get enough from the guards; the money there can go to someone who needs it more."

"Are you sure?"

Joseph nodded, "Do it for my daughter, for her memory."

Robin nodded with a smile, "That I can do."

* * *

Locksley was as he remembered it, and he couldn't deny the fact that his heart longed to return and stay here. This had been home; he had grown up here, and taken over the lands from his father, and had carved out a life here. The war in the Holy Lands had pulled him away, and returning after the long absence had been welcoming. But there had been so much done in his absence, so much hurt, so much wrong. That was something Robin would never be able to fix.

"The nerve of that man," Much shook his head as he came to a stop near him. "Parading in and out of your house…acting like it is his. Along with his men…and your new best friend…"

"Jealous?" Robin wondered, watching him. He grinned and turned back to the village before him. Gisborne could be seen moving about the land with his guards, and it wasn't hard for Robin find Collin.

"Of him?" Much laughed, then grew silent. "No. He's snobbish…and…a showoff. He's galling…nothing to be jealous of."

"They're up to something," Robin said quietly, watching as they entered the house that formerly was his own. "We need to find out."

"We should come back then," Much agreed, "Later…when we have the others with us. You…you said…nothing risky today. You said that, you did."

"We should pay our friends a visit," Robin commented, ignoring the other man.

"Gisborne is down there…with guards…we should go back."

"Oh come on," Robin clapped him on the back. He could not deny the worry inside of him, but neither would he pass up an opportunity such as this.

"Nothing risky?"

Robin eyed him as he started to leave the woods.

"Master," Much let out a sigh, hurry after him.

"We're just going to have a little chat, that's all."

"You promise?"

Robin turned to him, letting out a sigh as he nodded. "Now let's go."

This time he didn't wait for a response from the other man. He knew full well that Much would protest if given the chance, and Robin knew in his heart that if he backed away now, he wouldn't be able to muster up the courage for a similar feat later on. Thankfully, he knew the lay of the land well enough to know where and how to sneak in without being seen.

Their first stop was in the shadows underneath the awning of a barn. He watched as the remaining guards dwelled in front of the house, looks of boredom crossing their face. Robin smiled as he reached up to pull his hood up, helping to conceal his features. "I'll need a distraction."

"What?" Much shook his head, "Master surely…"

"My friend," Robin smiled at him.

The other man let out a groan, shaking his head again. "Why is it always me."

Even as he left Robin had turned his attention back to them, waiting now for the right moment to move. It came a few seconds later, he could hear Much yell, and the sound of crashing, a commotion starting. Instantly the guards where moving, shouting commands to halt.

If there was one thing, it was that Much knew how to create a distraction. Robin wasted no time, pushing himself to his feet as he rounded the house. Climbing up was easy, given the time that he needed. He jumped up, grabbing the first window ledge and hauled himself up, meanwhile keeping a sharp eye on Much. The man was already running back towards the woods, and Robin knew he wouldn't have much time left.

Edging around the corner he pulled himself up to the roof, glancing down as Gisborne came racing out of the house to see what the commotion was about. Robin took the opportunity to slip through the open window, landing hard on the ground inside.

Immediately there was a sword at his throat, and Robin held his breath as he regained his balance. Perhaps looking first would have been a good idea, but time hadn't been a luxury. He turned to face his opponent now, hands raising slightly as his mind worked to figure a way out of this.

"Why do you always insist on doing this?"

Robin laughed, sidestepping the blade as he pushed his hood back. "I find it more interesting that way."

"And how do you propose on getting out of here?" Collin asked him, sheathing his sword.

"I have a plan," Robin shrugged. "So, this is where you are staying?"

"Gisborne has moved your servants out; they are residing in the barn."

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. Not even his own people were safe from the man's actions. "These are my people Collin."

"Robin…I don't give out the orders; you know this."

"But you choose to go along with them."

"It is not like he is ordering me to kill people," Collin told him quickly.

"Still doesn't make it right."

"Robin, you rob from people. How can you talk about what is right and what is not when not even you follow the letter of the law?"

"This is about moral obligations," Robin told him. "Not the law. The law isn't always right."

"Look," he let out a sigh, "I will watch over them. That is all I can promise though."

"Why so many guards?"

"What?"

The new question had come up without so much of a warning. Robin didn't pity him, instead he turned to face him. "Gisborne normally does not have guards with him. Why now?"

"He is worried you might be after him."

"Gisborne? Afraid of me?" Robin shook his head. "Interesting."

"You are a renowned marksmen," Collin reminded him. "Gisborne certainly has given you a reason."

"And if I had a reason, Gisborne would already be dead. No, something else is going on. Gisborne knows I will not kill him; and even if believed that, he knows guards won't stop me. What else do you know?"

Collin shook his head, watching him. "Do you think I would withhold information from you?"

"Well?"

"He has said nothing," the man answered. "If I do find out, then you will know."

"I will find out," Robin told him quietly. "Whatever Gisborne has up his sleeve, it can't be good."

"There is more," Collin nodded to him.

"Tell me."

"There is to be a banquet, tomorrow night, a ball of sorts if you would call it. Many of the Nobles will be there, giving contributions to King Richard. There should be a rather large donation."

"That will certainly feed everyone for quite some time," Robin mused. "Thanks for the warning." He glanced over his shoulder as Gisborne's voice filled the house.

"You should go," Collin told him.

"Already gone," Robin answered with a smile. "Here, consider it payment."

Collin barely caught the apple that was tossed towards him, the man shaking his head. "Just go."

**TBC**


	3. Fraying Edges

**Thanks for the responses! I love reading what you guys are thinking, so please take a moment to review, let me know you are enjoying the read!**

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**Chapter Three: Fraying Edges**

"You are never doing that again."

"Come on now," Robin told him, pulling his shirt over his head, "you and I both know you were overdue for a bath."

"Disgusting mud hole, I've never like that lake. It is slimy, and smelly…and there are things in it. Slimy and smelly things…"

"Oh Much," Robin laughed quietly. "You can't tell me that you are afraid of getting wet. It is only water, it will not harm you."

"Frightened, no," Much answered crossly, pulling his cap off. "If I was frightened, I would be dead, I should think. Dead from fear...and I am wet…I am sopping wet, and so are you! I don't know about you but now I stink…"

"You don't smell any different to me," he offered, jumping over a fallen log.

"Laugh all you want, it is not funny to me."

Robin only smiled, taking the lead as they moved further into the forest. The sun was already in the sky and soon the cold of the night would be setting in. Leaving Locksley had been problematic, but then again he always enjoyed the challenge. Much's distraction had served as a way in, but there was little for him to do to provide a way out.

Though Much had returned, it was still only the two of them, against nearly a dozen guards. Robin and Much had done their best fending them off as they were pushed back against the lake. Gisborne being confident that he had once again the outlaw had drawn his guards off, giving the two the mere seconds they needed. Robin had pushed Much in the lake first, following shortly after.

He could hold his breath a long time, and knew that Much could as well. Keeping towards the bottom of the lake Robin had led him towards the reeds near the side, where they first had surfaced for air. Gisborne had been searching the lake frantically, even sending guards in after them, despite the fact they couldn't swim in all the added gear they were forced to carry.

The two had gone under again, surfacing near the opposite side of the lake, waiting for an opportune moment to escape. The moment came shortly after, courtesy of Collin who had drawn the guards' attention back to the reeds where they had first gone in. The pair hadn't needed a second invitation, and within seconds they were in the safety of the woods.

Up ahead the fire could be seen, and the aroma of food could be smelt as well. Robin mused the rest of the gang had already returned, and most likely were eagerly awaiting their arrival. He had not set any times to be back at the camp, only towards sundown, which it nearly was now. He met Allan's gaze with a grin as they came over the last hill.

"What happened to you?"

"Um…we went swimming," Robin shrugged it off, dropping his shirt near the fire.

"You mean to tell us that while we were busy robbing the rich, the two of you were taking a leisurely swim?"

"It was revolting," Much told him. "Truly disgusting, and the guards didn't help, or Gisborne…"

"Much," Robin hushed him quickly.

"Gisborne?" Will glanced at him. "What business did you have with Gisborne?"

"My own," Robin answered curtly, pulling out some dry clothes. "I was visiting my house, and a good thing I did."

"Why?" Djaq wondered, watching him from across the fire.

"There is going to be a feast tomorrow, a dance, at Nottingham, and we are all invited."

"I don't do dancing," Allan warned him, wrapping up in his cloak.

Will scoffed at him, shaking his head. "Tomorrow?"

Robin nodded, "In the evening; there is going to be a large sum of money, just waiting to be taken."

"But what about the food drops?" Will asked him, "we were going to be doing that tomorrow."

"And we will."

Robin moved back out near the fire, dressed in dry clothes once again. He took the time to spread out his wet ones, hoping that they would dry before they bedded down for the night. "If we can get this chest, not only will we be able to provide the people food, but money as well. It'll be enough to ensure them until we can start making our regular drops again."

"We were going to make the drops at first light," Will told him. "If this…dance, whatever it is, goes too late, we will have to wait till the next day. The food can't sit out overnight."

"There will be time," Robin told him.

"Will is right," John cut in. "Everyone has waited long enough. We drop the food off in the morning; we can drop the money off afterwards."

"A prize like that being gone won't be lost on the Sheriff or Gisborne. They will come after us shortly. We cannot hold it for long," Robin argued.

"But surely the Sheriff…he will know the villagers have it," Much pointed out. "What if he hurts them to get it back?"

"The Sheriff knows we give the villagers money Much; they have yet to find any of it, the people know what to do."

"The money can wait," Will told him, "the people cannot. They are hungry Robin."

"I know," he answered coldly. "I have seen it too; but that does not allow us to make rash decisions. We will need the morning to prepare for the feast, and we will have only this one chance to get it right. If we do not go, then the money will be gone."

"Why do you always insist on doing this?"

Robin met Will's gaze suddenly, "Doing what?"

"Getting even with the Sheriff, with Gisborne? That has been your only concern; meanwhile there are people out there who need our help."

"We need to talk," Robin warned him, moving to his feet, "now."

* * *

There was guilt; that much was for sure. Though Robin of Locksley had abandoned his house long ago to retreat into the forest, he still felt guilty sleeping here while the Master of the house slept out in the woods in the cold of the night.

The words Robin had spoken earlier still hung in his mind, and Collin knew he was right. There was something going on, he could feel it in the air. Gisborne himself had been in and out of the house several times, each one without so much as a single word. He had been quiet…withdrawn. Or maybe that was his normal mood.

Collin could only guess as much. He had not spent much time around Guy of Gisborne prior to now. The reassignment made him sort of ill. At first he thought it to be a trap. That the Sheriff and Gisborne somehow knew that it was him who had set Robin free.

It was only his first day, and thus far the man had hardly paid him any heed. It was as it always had been; he was merely another face. If he slipped out the back, and never returned, Collin doubted he would be missed.

So if it wasn't a trap for himself, disguised as a clever mission, then what was it? Guards had been stationed around the house in watches, throughout the night, and already there were those who would be stationed inside during the day. Collin could not fathom a reason for doing so. Robin had been right, if Gisborne was fearful of losing his life to the marksmen, then even a thousand guards wouldn't make a difference.

Settling down on the bed he removed his helmet, along with the rest of his armor. Being assigned as one of the head guards did have its advantages however. He had a room to himself, even if it was one of the servant quarters.

_"These are my people."_

Robin would still blame him. There was nothing Collin could do other than offer support. He had been out to see them, pretending to do a normal round. More than anything he wanted to tell them that Robin still cared for them. But he wouldn't dare whisper the man's name, not while Gisborne was around. Maybe he could bring them something, after Gisborne had gone to sleep…

Collin picked up the apple that rested on the table, tossing it in the air. Fruit was a rarity at this time of the year, and it had been so long since he had last had some. Though it had been a moment's thought on Robin's part, it meant a great deal to him. Collin wondered briefly if that was what the others felt, and after a moment mused that it was.

But his thoughts were interrupted, the echoes of footsteps parading on the stairwell. Gisborne's room was right next to his, so it wasn't a surprise if the man was going to bed for the night. Though they did not stop when the reached the top. Collin barely had time to hide the apple as his door swung open. Gisborne of course had no real desire to respect privacy, especially for his guards.

"I need for you to take the night…"

Gisborne had been talking even before he entered the room, pausing as Collin moved to his feet quickly. "Sir Guy?"

"What was that?"

Collin was silent for a moment, trying to sort out an answer in his head. "I…"

"What are you hiding, show me?"

"It is nothing, Sir Guy, I was just hungry, that is all. You surprised me."

Resistance, of course, was not the wisest of ideas. Innocence, when played wisely, could go a long way. Slowly he pulled the fruit out, holding it in his hands. But the cold glare in the man's eyes showed nothing of believing what he was saying.

"An apple…interesting."

"It was all I had," Collin nodded, "If you would like it…"

"Where did you get it?"

"I um…" he took a breath, trying to keep calm. He couldn't give the truth, but what lie was good enough to convince him otherwise.

"You seem short of words."

"I am trying to think, Sir Guy. But I cannot remember."

"There was only one batch of apples, and they were stolen…by Robin Hood."

"Who?"

Gisborne smiled coldly, shaking his head. "Do not play me for a fool. Associating with an outlaw is a hanging offense."

"Forgive me Sir Guy, but I do not associate with such low life. I give you my word, as true as it is, I found the apple yesterday, on my way to Nottingham in Sherwood Forest."

"I have trouble believing you," Guy told him pityingly. "And your performance earlier suggests that you are indeed in league with Hood. It was your incompetence that let him get away; unless you are to tell me that I have mistaken once again."

"I have not told a lie," Collin answered boldly, hoping that it was enough for the man.

"Which is good then, for you. Spitting lies would lose your tongue. Not that it would matter much if you end up in the gallows. But I am an understanding man; maybe there is a way you can prove your loyalty."

"How?"

The response worried him; how could he prove his loyalty to save his own neck, and still keep faith with Robin?

"Show me where you found it. Might we find one of his food stores; or better yet Hood's camp."

"No," Collin said quickly, biting his tongue as he did so.

"No?" Gisborne laughed quietly. "So you are in league with Robin; how interesting."

"That is not what I meant," Collin was quick to correct himself. "I do not remember where I found it, so I cannot take you there."

"Then that's bad for you," he responded, turning to look over his shoulder. "Take him to the castle dungeons, he will hang at sunrise."

"Wait," Collin stepped towards him. "I might remember…if we go there, to the forest, I may be able to find it."

"I thought you might."

* * *

They had moved away from the main fray of the group, but Will knew the attention was still on them. Robin had not waited for an answer, had not spoken, not till now. And alone, Will felt…outnumbered. It was an odd feeling, but he squashed it quickly as Robin turned to face him, the man folding his arms in front of his chest.

"So?"

He wasn't afraid of being challenged, and he met Robin's gaze, trying to sort the words out in his head. But what was he to say? That he disagreed with Robin's choice? That was already known. Perhaps he could tell Robin that he was being a fool, but being cocky with your leader was never the best route to travel, even more so if wanted to remain on fair ground.

Finally Will shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Nothing."

"You certainly had a lot to say just a few moments ago," Robin pressed, watching him. "Tell me."

Having turned away the comment caught Will's attention, and he turned back to face him. "What is this about?"

The question had come about without much thought, but Will knew it had been playing on his mind for some time. He had seen the change in Robin for the last several weeks, the man was quick to anger, and the closer you tried to get, the further away he seemed to go. Part of Will worried, worried that one day he wouldn't come back. He owed his life to the man, more than once, but it wasn't just that. Robin had a belief, one that was similar to what he had held for so long, but it was stronger; much stronger. Robin had helped him see that belief turn into a reality.

When Robin had first returned to Locksley after his long absence, Will had been cautious. In the given times it was always better to pretend to be an enemy, rather than a friend. It was wiser to hide, than to stroll out in the open. He had done many things wrong; there was no arguing about that. With Robin's help, Will had been able to turn that wrongdoing into something that was right. He didn't want to lose that, nor did he want to lose the ability to help those who needed it.

Painful memories of how his mother had suffered resurfaced each and every time he dealt the poor and the hungry. He knew how precious each day was, and knew that with each passing one; it could be one day too late. Of course he couldn't blame Robin for the long winter, or for the happenings that had taken place, the ones that set them behind so far. But he could blame him for the lost time that was happening now.

"What are you talking about?"

"Is this some sort of game you're trying to play? Ever since you got out of the dungeons your only concern has been hurting the Sheriff and Gisborne in one way or another. Stealing their money, taking their prized possessions, flirting with danger and taking advice from guards. Whatever happened to helping the poor?"

"We have always stolen from the Sheriff," Robin told him fiercely. "Usually you are the one to jump at an opportunity like this. It is a good one."

"And the Sheriff will be expecting us!" Will cried. "One of Gisborne's men told you for crying out loud. How long before he goes cooing to his master? It is a trap."

"Collin is not against us," Robin warned him. The man shook his head, closing his eyes. "And the Sheriff is always expecting us. We haven't failed yet."

"There are more important things to do."

"And so we do our food drops," Robin told him, "Then what? We have nothing…everything in our store is going to poor. How long will we have to wait before we get more? We don't have any money left…we can't barter or trade. The Sheriff is buying the meat out of every village for tomorrow's feast. If we do not go, then we lose both the food, and the money. Neither of which I am willing to sacrifice if I can help it."

"So we wait another day, and let the hungry die?"

"One day isn't going to make a difference Will!"

"Try telling that to my mother."

He felt the guilt as soon as he had said the words, and expected the retaliation. Instead there was silence; it was far worse than anything Robin could have said.

The man was shaking his head again, sympathy in his eyes. "Will…"

"I'm sorry," Will said quickly, cutting him off. "I shouldn't have said that."

"I know you mean well," Robin nodded towards him. "You're heart is the right place, but trust me. We need to think what is best for everyone, for what will come next. It will take time before the markets and the mills flourish again, until then we need to do what we can to help them."

"We could still do both," Will reminded him.

"We could," Robin agreed, "but we need that time in the morning if we are to prepare for the night. The Sheriff will be expecting us like you said, so we must be one step ahead of him."

"Robin…"

The man was shaking his head, "Enough…alright?"

Will let out a sigh nodding, though he was reluctant to agree. Yet it was Robin's choice, not his own. The man had already left the clearing, heading back towards the camp where the warm file and fresh meal waited. But as enticing as they were, Will wanted nothing more than to be further away.

**TBC**


	4. A Quiet Pretence

**Sorries**** for the late chapter, it's been a bit busy. Let me know you are reading, and thanks for all the comments so far!**

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**Chapter Four: A Quiet Pretence **

He hadn't slept well that night; Robin's words rang through his mind, his own infuriation growing as he thought them over. How was the man any more right than he? Yet nothing he said seemed to make any difference. Robin considered himself above the rest of the group…but maybe that was too harsh to say.

In the morning Will had left the camp, gathering wood for a fire as the others slowly woke to the bright light filtering through the trees. Though there was more than enough wood collected, he needed some time for himself. He was angry; the talk of the upcoming dance only fueled that emotion and Will knew he could not stay for much longer before his patience ran out.

Idly he moved about the trees, collecting bits and pieces he seemed worthy enough to sustain a good fire, tucking his finds under an arm. What would he say to Robin?

Over the course of the night Will had come to a decision; he did not want to go. He felt, instead, that he could be of use. While Robin and the others went to Nottingham, he could stay behind, and make the rounds. That way neither of them would lose out. The hungry would be fed, Robin would gain his prize, and everything would be settled.

The only problem was his lack of courage. Robin wasn't an easy man to stand up to, especially when it came to questioning his judgment. Much seemed to do it well enough, but then again he had known the man longer. Robin trusted him, and would continue to do so whether or not he listened to Much's suggestion. For Will though…it was not the same.

The trust Robin had given him back in the dungeons at the castle was now replaced with a cold distance. Whenever Will broached the subject, Robin would change the direction of the conversation, or pretend he didn't hear. It was frustrating. There were many questions that still plagued his mind, and that night he had listened to Robin endure the pain alone still clouded his conscience.

Maybe he needed the counsel for his own release rather than for Robin's. It was the first time Will had seen Robin is such a desperate state, and it had hit home for him. He knew, of course, that Robin was just a vulnerable as any of them there in the forest. But to actually see it, to know that it could physically happen…he was afraid.

And Robin's own direction had changed as well. He had chosen to first stay with Robin simply because the man believed in helping those who could not help themselves. It was an intoxicating sensation for Will, who had always despised the Sheriff, and his treacherous ways. Before though, he could not stand up against it, for simple fear of his life, and his family's safety. But with his father and brother gone now, they were no longer in harm's way, and backed up by the group, Will felt more confident.

Now that was gone; he had seen the suffering in the villages throughout the hard winter; the people of Knighton Hall still recovering from that dark night, and of course the others who were hurting just as well. Robin was turning a blind eye towards them. Though Robin was right about providing for the future, Will also knew there could not be any future if the present was not taken care of first.

The real question remained was why Robin didn't see it as well? Surely it was obvious to him…or was it because Robin did not wish to see it. Guy of Gisborne had been a shadow in the man's life; the reason for Robin's return from war, he had been behind Will's actions back in Locksley that ended him up in the gallows, prompting the reason for Robin's exile. He was the reason for Marian's departure…and now, he had been the source of torment for Robin. The once cunning noble was just a shadow of his former self, trying his best to remain strong, but forgetting what was important, his mind set on instead with getting even with his enemies.

For that, Will could not blame him. The man's world had been changed drastically in such a short time, he had lost most of what he had held dear. Will would be seeking revenge if the same had happened for him. Yet Robin would deny it; still holding to his belief of withholding bloodshed if possible. Instead of ridding his enemies in the easiest of fashions, Robin would instead creep about, taunting them in public, humiliating them where he could. And words only went so far.

"Djaq's got your outfit ready, she wants you to, uh, come try it on."

Will turned at the sound of his voice, meeting Allan's gaze briefly before turning back round. "You can wear it, I'm not going."

"Not funny," Allan let out a laugh. "but, I uh, would have to agree with you."

"You?" Will asked skeptically. "Why?"

"We're giving all our food away, wasting our time going to dances and stuff, and then we are going to give more stuff away. Whatever happened to stealing from the rich, giving to the poor, and keeping for ourselves?"

"I'm more worried about the poor Allan," he told him sternly, setting the pile of branches on the forest floor.

"So am I," the man was quick to defend him, "but I'm worried about myself too."

"Is that all you think about? Yourself?"

"Yes. We are the poor too you know."

Will let out a sigh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "You already told me this once. I'm not falling for it again."

"Alright," Allan nodded towards him. "Stealing Gisborne's money for ourselves was a bad idea. But come on, how many other bad ideas have I had?"

This time Will meet his gaze, a little perplexed. Allan let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Alright, forget that I asked that one. What I'm talking about now…I agree with you. We should help the poor. Once they're taking care of, we can start collecting for ourselves if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Will shook his head. "And no I don't agree with you."

"So you agree with Robin then?"

No, the truth was he didn't. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. "It is Robin's choice. Not ours."

"Well, not being funny, but maybe it should be."

Will didn't respond, gathering the wood instead and heading back towards the camp. He didn't have the courage to stand up to Robin, despite the fact he disagreed. So far it had done no good, and part of Will believed that bringing it up again would only anger the man further.

* * *

There was a contention between his men; one that was quiet enough to escape the knowledge of an ordinary man. But Robin was no ordinary man. For years he had fought in war, and the ability to sense when something wasn't right was a trait that had developed over time. By now it was keen enough to pick up even the slightest of signals that were passed between the group.

He had been the last to wake, something that was quite unusual but not unheard of. Robin had adjusted to sleeping in short light bursts during the nights, falling victim to a heavier sleep in the mid to late afternoon if time permitted it. Another old war habit he believed he would never be rid off.

When he did wake, he found near half of the group missing. Much had already started breakfast, informing Robin that Djaq and Allan had gone off to collect materials for the coming mission. John himself was resting easily, enjoying the quiet morning, and Will could be seen off in the near distance collecting wood.

Though the feeling could not be explained, it was definitely there, and it wasn't hard to tell why. The night before had not ended on the best of terms, and Robin knew they still disagreed with him. In war, Robin had learned that when so many opposed your judgment, that listening was the wisest of things to do. Sometimes it was your followers that were able to see what you could not.

Even as sound as the advice was, Robin chose to ignore it. The opportunity at hand was far too good to pass up. In any other situation it wouldn't even have been a discussion. Robin had a hard time believing that would all change simply due to one circumstance. With a final sigh, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind for later, and began planning for the coming night.

Not too long after Djaq returned with Allan, arms full, and Robin provided her with half of his attention as she sorted through the outfits they had managed to acquire. It was good, he had to admit, and he nodded in approval. They wouldn't be all going in though, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that just quite yet.

Slowly but surely their last member of the group joined them, coming to stop as he neared the camp. Will's eyes were fixated on Djaq, his mouth hanging open slightly. Robin raised an eyebrow even as Djaq laughed.

"What?"

"I…just never seen you in a dress before," Will stammered, his cheeks flushing red as he turned away.

Robin smiled, laughing to himself as he turned back to Djaq. He had hardly noticed that she was. It was a gentle shade of blue, long in sleeves and falling down to around her ankles. Though he should probably be more taken aback than he currently was, the change of appearance hardly fazed him. Cleary there was a difference for Will.

"You think I look pretty?" Djaq asked, taunting him.

"No," Will said quickly, stammering, "Yes…I mean, you look…"

"You had better find some words," Robin told him. "You two are going in as a couple."

"What?"

The question was asked in unison by the pair, and Robin laughed, moving to his feet. "We need someone on the inside. It would be too suspicious for us to enter as a group, or to go in alone."

"What is everyone else going to do?" Will asked skeptically.

"John and Allan are going to wait at the front as guards. They'll be able to get you two out quickly if something comes up. Much and I are going to find a way in through the back, and see if we can find where the Sheriff is storing this donation chest. I need you and Djaq to find a way of smuggling the food out of there if you can. Surely most of it will be in store somewhere."

"And how will we accomplish this?" He asked, indicating towards Djaq. "I mean, she doesn't even have weapons on her; it's not safe."

"I have weapons," she cut him off.

"Where?"

"You do not need to know."

Robin laughed, closing his eyes as he shook his head. Sometimes he learned more about his fellow comrades than he wished to know. Yet it was a small price to pay for the choice of life he lived now. And truth be told, he would not have it any other way.

* * *

He had been angry at first, bewildered next, and now was left feeling both eager and nervous at the same time. It wasn't a secret to the group that he had…feelings for Djaq, save for the woman herself. Just never before had he the courage to express it to her.

Returning to the camp his mind had been a whirlwind of confusion, overflowing with feelings of anger and resentment, as well as curiosity to the words Allan had spoken earlier. And in one single instant, they had all melted away when he first came across her. Djaq, by nature, was a beautiful woman in his belief. Her boyish appearance, and tough attitude not dampening her features in the least. The knowledge that she was a girl, fighting as skilled as man, seemed to only provoke those feelings inside of him more.

But she was the only woman in an entire group of men. Surely if she fancied any of them, it would not be him. Allan was a trickster, quick with tongue, and able to swindle and charm. Will knew she cared for him, for he had seen the interactions the two had held in private moments. He had heard the words they had shared, and had witnessed the tender caring moments after Allan's brother was killed.

Not only was there Allan, but Robin as well. Djaq had grown to like his company as time went by. He too knew of the quiet moments they had spent together in the forest; on how Djaq had focused more time and effort when Robin had been hurt, caring for the man and seeing him through to his recovery. Was it possible something had sparked then?

Though Robin's true heart was for Marian, and he would never return love on the same level, it wouldn't stop Djaq from trying if she did fancy him. And Will would not blame her if that was the case. Robin was a war hero, as well as a hero among the peasants. He had spoken of truths and promises that the people of Nottingham could only begin to dream of.

And he…Will himself, was a mere shadow of that. He was a carpenter, strong with his hands, but withdrawn with his words. He could not even speak up for himself, or tell her his true feelings…surely Djaq saw him nothing more than a friend, a comrade.

Perhaps it was mere happenstance that Robin had chosen him to pair up with Djaq, or maybe it was a cruel joke on Robin's part, to taunt him with what he could never have. But no, Will knew that not even Robin could sink that low, despite how angry he may be. Whatever the case, Will would not argue. Now he was waiting anxiously for the evening to arrive, the entire ordeal of feeding the poor gone from his head. If it wasn't for Djaq's reminder, then he may have well forgotten that they were on a mission.

It had taken painstaking measures to prepare in the forest. Will had not only bathed, but shaved as well, cleaning up as best as he possibly could. Living in the woods had taught him to abide with dirt and grime on a daily basis. It was simply too difficult to remain clean for long, and more often than not, their dirtied appearances helped them out, providing a false camouflage to those who passed by. But tonight would be an exception. Dirt and grime would only single them out.

The outfit she had chosen for him was simple, yet elegant. The pants dark in color to hide any unwanted dirt, and the cloth hugged his skin yet allowed it to breathe. He wore with a simple white shirt, the sleeves ending as his wrists, the fabric covered by a long vest the same colors as the pants. It was enough to pass him off as noble, and yet not enough to outdo Djaq's simple dress.

One that she looked marvelous in. Yet he was unable to tell her that one simple thing. Taking Djaq's earlier words he had slipped a dagger and one of his axes inside his the band of his leggings, wanting to be prepared for anything. He was ready just in time.

They rode in towards the castle on horseback with the others, Robin and Much leaving them off at the gates just before Nottingham. Robin reminded him of a few last words, tossing Weill a small satchel before he took off, disappearing back into the forest. Robin's part would come later, Will knew, for now, he and Djaq had to find a way inside.

He was initially surprised as Djaq locked arms with him, giving him a small smile. "We are a couple," she told him quietly.

"We are," he answered, letting out a breath. With his free hand he worked open the ties, letting out a laugh as he saw inside. "Robin…"

He held up the small ring, bringing another smile to Djaq's face. "Are you proposing, Will Scarlet?"

Will blushed deeply, stammering as the small trinket slipped between his fingers to the ground. "I um…someone may see…"

Djaq had retrieved the ring from the ground, blowing off the bits of dust that clung to metal. "Couples wear rings," she finished for him. "Of course Robin would know this."

"Yeah," Will nodded, his cheeks still red as she pressed it back into his hands.

"You will put it on for me?"

"What?"

She smiled, moving in closer to him. "There are others watching; if we are going to get in, we must play the part Will Scarlet."

Will nodded, his heart racing in his chest. Her voice was so intoxicating…curse it all.

"Of course…we must make them believe…" But the confidence was fading even as he slid it on her finger. It was all an act, nothing more. Of course she would be focused on the mission; none of this meant anything to her. Yet it meant so much to him…Will closed his eyes; he was a fool to believe otherwise.

When he opened his eyes she was watching him closely, confusion in her gaze. She moved to speak, but he was quick to cut her off. "We should go, they are still watching."

He didn't wait for her to respond, taking the lead as he began the slow pace inside. They were not the only couple there; several more Lords and Ladies were arriving, stepping out of horse-drawn carriages, dressed in elegant fashions. The Castle itself was decorated marvelously, far more than what the Sheriff ever did. Yet this was a special event for him, and the vile man would go about to do whatever it was to entice whatever money he could from those who could afford it.

"You're not allowed to go through here," the guard said suddenly, stepping in their path. "Where is your invitation?"

"We are special guests," Will responded confidently, lowering his voice. "What are you doing Allan? You're going to give us away."

"Trust me, alright? Robin said this might be an invite only gathering. John and I took the liberty of figuring it out."

He slipped the paper to Will, who was now forced to let go of Djaq's arm for the first time since arriving. It was old, worn down, but still legible as he opened the creased parchment, reading it over.

"Thomas and Alice Ralston?"

"You're from Cheshire, if anyone asks."

Will looked at him skeptically as Djaq took the parchment from his hands. "These are real people? Wont someone notice that two of us show up?"

"The Ralstons…are busy at the moment," Allan grinned, "Taken care of already."

"No," Will shook his head. "They are innocent people, I will not impose of them while you have them…locked away somewhere."

"Will," Djaq cut him off, "we have to get in."

"Yeah, exactly," Allan agreed. "Don't worry, we'll let them go when all of this is said and done."

It was frustrating, but Will knew they were right. A moment of silence, and then he took the scrolled invitation back, slipping it inside his pocket. Djaq took his arm once more, flashing a quick smile towards Allan, reoccurring the bitter feelings inside Will once more. What was he doing here?

"Right then," Allan nodded towards them, taking on his authoritative demeanor once more. "You can go through."

Will pushed the thoughts from his head with little success as they made their way up the steps. From here the joyous music could already be heard, and the frivolous chatter echoed throughout the stone halls. He could feel a foreboding animosity creep up inside of him. A call or warning, something wasn't right.

True enough, he had slipped by here many times, but always disguised, always in secret. Now they were parading in, impersonating Lords and Ladies, the festivities beckoning them to join. And yet the sweet intoxication that was only inches from his side would have to be ignored, both for the mission, and his own sanity if he was to survive this evening.

As much as he loved the man, he hated Robin with all his passion for the current predicament. His only hope now was that everything would go according to plan.

**TBC**


	5. A Wrong Turn

**Thanks to all of my reviewers for taking the time to give me some feedback, really do enjoy hearing your take on the story. Any comments, or questions, please leave one! I don't bite, I promise :)**

**All mistakes are my own.**

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**Chapter Five: A Wrong Turn**

The great halls of Nottingham Castle rang with laughter, spirited talk and lively music as the procession took way, and aromatic sensual of food and drink beckoning to the large crowd. It was as almost as it was before King Richard had left for the Holy Lands, back when Sir Edward was the Sheriff, and times were merry. Though this is what it seemed to portray, Will knew that the merriment was forced, and the many of the Nobles here were anxious to leave as soon as they could.

They were not the enemy, he knew, but they may as well be. They supported the Sheriff and his sinister scheme out of fear, turning a blind eye to those who truly needed help, and refused to acknowledge that a problem was brewing in the populace of England. Yet Will knew that without them, there would be no hope for the people of England. For it was they who the outlaws robbed to feed and supply the poor, to keep them safe from the castle's dungeons, and strong for their families. So much pain, so much suffering, but Will knew they couldn't give up hope. Somehow everything would see its way through in the end.

With Djaq by his side, they passed through the castle without hesitation, that alone being a foreign feeling. Normally they were slinking in the shadows, or scaling the walls, sheltered in hiding. They were still hiding, true, out in the open, disguised as nobles instead of outlaws. It still made him anxious. Subconsciously Will tucked his free hand into the vest he wore, fingering the head of the axe that sat against his skin snugly. It was powerful knowledge, to know he was armed even though giving the appearance he was not. It gave him the confidence he needed to strut in without hesitation, even though that part in itself was forced.

Torches lined the walls, burning brightly, lighting the normally dim interior and casting an entirely new feeling about the room. It was a grand scheme, he had to admit, on the Sheriff's part. Truly he would be impressed if he had never walked the halls before. The deception was amazing, a ploy well thought out by the man.

The touch on his shoulder drew his attention away, and he smiled as Djaq led him further into the crowd. The dress she wore moved about her flawlessly, embracing her skin, the stitching holding tight in just the right places. She wore a matching wrap in her hair, one that helped hide her boyish cut, drawing the lurking eye to gentle face instead.

She was beautiful, he had to admit. Maybe too beautiful, but then he always felt that way about her. Her arm wrapped about his, her small delicate, yet strong fingers gently gripping his forearm. Cautiously Will placed his own hand over hers, smiling to himself when she did not object. Growing up there were no girls that he particularly fancied, and was content to living a quiet life alone in the freedom of Locksley village. But that was before the Sheriff came to power, and before he had met Djaq.

The more time he spent out in the woods, the more he longed for a life of his own, the more he longed…longed to be with her. It was a childish feeling, he knew, but it was one he couldn't stop from creeping up on him in the midst of the nights. If only there was peace again in the Holy Lands, and King Richard would return. Then he would build a homestead, somewhere near Locksley he supposed…and then he would ask her…

Not to marry, no, because he knew she would never accept. She came from a different world, and believed in a different heaven. How could he compensate, give her what he could never promise? No, marriage was too foreign for the both of them, and most likely she would laugh if he tried. But he would ask her to stay. The truth was that he did fancy her, perhaps too much now, and he couldn't imagine a life apart from her. Too many nights they had shared over the campfire, too many missions had they barely come out alive. Too many times had they saved one another, risked their lives for one another…it could not be all forgotten in the end, could it?

They had drawn into the shadows now, Will snapping from his momentary dream, glancing around him. It felt safer here, but that was merely from habit, so he knew the reasoning they had come here now could not be a good one.

"What is it?"

Djaq still had him by the arm, her eyes narrowing as they gazed across the room. "Robin will not find the chest. It is here."

"Where?" Will asked quickly, following her gaze. Robin had been counting of the chest to be beneath the castle, within the store rooms. They all had, it was part of the plan. Plans changed of course, but the Robin had always been with them to formulate a new one. Now the man was not here…

"We need to get back to Allan and John," he told her suddenly, the eerie feeling washing over him.

She knew it as well, already pulling away from him, her warmth leaving his side. But they did not get far. Will pulled her back into the shadows as the Sheriff came near, not having to say a word for her to still her tongue.

The man walked, nearly skipping as he made his way through the crowd, holding his hands up to quiet the musicians. There was an unmistakable glee on his face, one that was sickening as well. Will moved another step into the shadows, Djaq following as the man began to speak. More than anything now Will wished for his cloak, wanting to conceal his face with a hood, or even a simple hat. They were too close to slip by unnoticed, and the Sheriff would surely notice them if they tried.

"My friends! Lords…and Ladies," Vaysey laughed softly, "Welcome! Welcome, to my, humble abode…really now."

"Where is Gisborne?" Djaq whispered in his ear. "I see the guards, we might get by them, but I don't see Gisborne."

Will glanced about the hall, peering over the heads of the Lords and Ladies who stood in the center of the room. Usually the man wasn't too far behind the Sheriff, but in this case Djaq was right. He was nowhere to be seen. That could only mean bad news for them.

Will's attention was drawn back to the front as the Sheriff began speaking once again.

"The War in Holy Land continues, our 'beloved' King Richard is leading the way to victory. But if we are to have this victory," Vaysey held up a finger, "We need to support our fearless leader in every way we can. We need to be devoted, faithful…loyal."

Will shook his head, scoffing quietly. "What does the Sheriff know of loyalty?"

Djaq hushed him quietly, her free hand pressing against his chest.

"But there are some, who don understand what those words mean," the man continued, earning an incredulous laugh from Will. Once again Djaq was quick to silence him, this time giving him a sharp glare. Though Will disagreed, he also knew that drawing unwanted attention to themselves was not going to help. Carefully he surveyed the crowds around them, trying to locate John and Allan. They were outside…not inside, and that would only hinder them.

"Robin Hood…does not, understand how authority works. He does not understand loyalty, or devotion. War does that to a man you know…" Vaysey grinned, pointing to his head. "Muddle thoughts…yes…"

He shook his head. "No, you don't know," he laughed quietly, addressing the audience as he raised his hands. "He has come here tonight, to try and steal your generous donations. We cannot help our King with such petty criminals about. Your hard work…going into the hands of outlaws. It is maddening!"

"That is why, we have taken extra precautions tonight, you see. Your generous donations are right here," Vaysey walked over to the chest, pushing off the lid. Hastily he reached inside, pulling out several of the coins, letting them fall back in with noisy clinks. "Here in front of your very eyes. Hood will not be able to steal it when so many are watching. No…you hear that Hood!"

In the silence the man's voice shot through the empty air, reverberating off of the walls. No one would dare breathe while he spoke it seemed, and Will closed his eyes as he held his own breath. Robin and Much would be entering the Castle from behind by now, and more in likely headed straight for a trap.

"Enjoy yourselves, now, wont you?" The Sheriff clapped his hands, the music starting as though it never had stopped. For a moment it was still, but soon the dancing began once more, the hall filling with muddled voices as the chest was surrounded by guards.

"This was a bad idea," Will whispered quietly, "we need to get out of here, and find Robin."

* * *

Getting in was never a problem. It was getting out that was troublesome. The number of guards there was dramatically lower than what they had expected. Between the pair, they were able to dispatch of them easily. Robin first checked the opening, before climbing through, helping Much up as well. It was easy enough, the evening events providing more than enough distraction to allow them to slip through unnoticed.

Still Robin kept to the shadows, he and his companion switching on and off between the walls, the corners, and any other form of shelter they could find. This was the reason why Robin preferred to travel with Much than any of the others. The man was war trained, quite similar to himself. He knew how to move, and for the most part, could do so on his own. Still, the quiet reminder would be needed from time to time, but Robin trusted the man to be able to read him better than any of the other members of his group.

Coming against a wall he forced himself to still, nodding to the other man as the hallway drew unwanted guests. Holding his breath Robin watched them walk by, waiting until they had disappeared from view before he took the lead once more. He could not afford to wait; the chilling memories of what happened before still clung heavily in his mind, and Robin had been working to chase them away. The slightest misstep could result in deadly error, and he had neither the time nor the patience for such a mishap.

Alone once again they moved down the hall, Robin keeping close to the walls, peering about the corner before actually turning it. Quickly he motioned to Much, stepping out in into the empty corridor. "By now the Sheriff would have the donations collected, and stored. Now it is time to play our part."

"Are you sure it was safe to send them in like that?" Much asked him, keeping watch as Robin worked to get the door open.

"They can handle themselves," Robin nodded, "Allan and John are there as well."

"Still don't like it."

"Well, you don't have to," Robin reminded the other man. He concentrated his last effort on successfully picking the lock, holding up the small pick triumphantly. "Thank you Will."

"Let's thank him later," Much hurried him, pushing the door open.

Robin gripped his sword, pulling it free as a routine precaution, urging his companion inside, following shortly after. The familiar musty odor greeted them, the darkness being chased away by the torch Much held up. Robin followed warily, sword ready, his eyes glancing about the room. Dust lined the floor in a thick layer, stirred into the air by their movement. Above them, thick cobwebs, suffocating from grime, hung loosely, as though threatening to fall at a moments notice. Slowly Robin shook his head.

"This isn't right," he whispered quietly.

"Where's the money?"

"It's not here," Robin answered, bringing his sword up. The uneasy feeling he had before was only getting worse as he edged back towards the door. "This room hasn't been used in ages, they didn't come here."

"But why? They always used this…I mean…why lock an empty room?"

Robin let out a long sigh, shaking his head. An answer he didn't have…it didn't make sense…not unless…

He could literally feel his heart fall into his stomach, his entire demeanor changing as he tensed up. "Out."

"What?"

"Out, now!" Robin ordered, no longer worried about who might hear him. He moved for the door, pushing Much ahead of him. They were mere moments away when the door slammed shut, Robin throwing his weight against it even as he heard the lock slide into place.

There was a string of vile curses that left his lips, fueling his own fear as he brought his sword against heavy wood. It would do no good he knew; even with Will's axe, the instrument designed to split through wood had no use here.

"A trap?" Much questioned, "but how?"

"They knew we were coming," Robin yelled, turning back towards the man. "We've been tricked."

Much was shaking his head, denying what he already knew to be true. "The others…what about the others?"

"I'm sure the Sheriff will find them soon, if he hasn't already," Robin let out a sigh, sliding down to the floor against the wall. "We shouldn't have come."

"But the money," Much argued with him, "You said it would be here."

"It's not," Robin answered crossly, watching him.

There was realization in his eyes now, and slowly the man nodded, accepting his fate for what it was. Robin pressed his head into his hands, cursing himself quietly. He was a fool…he knew the risks, that the odds were not in his favor, and still he insisted. Now he would not only pay with his own life, but his friend as well. And the others, if they did not make it to safety.

Death, of course, would be a blessing. Once already he had been to the other side, and knew that there were worse things than death. That the promise of endless torture, of pain inflicted to not only yourself, but to the ones you so deeply cared about that you could not stand to see them hurt. Such as Marian…

He hated himself for letting her go. But it was the only way, he knew. She could begin a new life, living in safety with her father. The temptation to leave with her had been overwhelming at that time. Part of him no longer cared for England, or for the poor. He would be content as long as he had her.

But his men…he could not abandon them so easily. Nor Much, who was more to him than just a comrade. A life long partner, and solid friend, someone he both loved and hated with each passing moment. Much had filled a great deal after the passing of his parents, and truth be told the man was more like a brother than a friend, having shared some of the best joys, and most painful sorrows.

"Forgive me, my friend," he told the man quietly, earning a confounded look from his partner. Robin laughed despite the situation, sharing in his friend's confusion. Of course there was no way for Much to follow his thoughts when he did not speak them.

"We are…going to die, aren't we?"

"That is the general idea."

Much was shaking his head. "You're supposed to say that you have a plan."

"Alright," Robin shrugged, "I have a plan."

"No you don't!" Much cried. "Don't say that!"

"What? That's what you told me to say."

"I didn't mean for you to lie," the man shook his head. "Come on, you have to think of something."

"Much, the door is solid wood; even with an axe it would take ages to cut through it. The lock is on the outside, and we can't reach it. We have nothing in here to help us. What do you suggest?"

"A different room," he answered quickly, bringing a smile to Robin's lips.

"Well, we can't help that, now can we?"

Much nodded, "The others, they will realize something is wrong, and come and find us. I say we wait, right here."

Robin watched him concernedly, raising an eyebrow. "Good idea Much. We will just stay right here. In this locked room."

"You're not coming up with anything better!"

"Patience," Robin told him, silencing him. "Gisborne and the Sheriff will have to come for us eventually. When they do, we will be ready."

Much nodded, sitting down opposite of him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Right…what do we do until then?"

"Wait."

"Yeah," Much nodded again, sighing heavily. "I could have figured that out on my own."

Robin shook his head, smiling sadly. Charging the pair with an unknown number of guards was suicidal at best. Yet it was a more promising fate than what he had been offered before.

"What if they don't come for us?" Much asked quietly. "What if they leave us locked up in here forever?"

"Then we die," Robin suggested mildly.

"No water," Much shrugged, "No fresh air, no food…" he moaned quietly. "No food…we're going to starve."

"We are not going to starve."

"No more pig…or beef…no more cheese…"

"Much!" Robin hushed him again.

"Easy for you to say," he cried, "you're not the one who's going to starve."

Robin let out a sigh, bumping his head against the wall. Sometimes reason was not the man's best friend. But Much had brought up a valid point. Their only chance remained in storming the guards when the door opened. But the door did not have to open; and the reality of a slow death such as the one they were now facing, was more than alarming.

**TBC**


	6. Regretful Choices

**Sorry for the long wait, but a longer chapter as a result. Many thanks to those who have reviewed, really do hope you continue, it helps keeps me interested in the writing the story knowing you are enjoying it. **

**Special thanks to _Kegel _who has done my betaing for me the last several chapters, and who has probably done a lot more work for this chapter ;)**

**Read; Enjoy; Review**

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**Chapter Six: Regretful Choices**

He had regrets, yes; Robin would have to doubt anyone who said otherwise. There was a mild wonderment, one that fiddled with the edges of his mind, as if mocking him simply because he couldn't grasp the entire concept. The truth in reality was Robin was not sure if he would ever be satisfied with his life.

Years ago he had taken a chance, had made a choice. Everything was a choice, everything that you did. Yet for every choice you made, there was always a reaction. That had always been, and would always be, leaving the only thing that was constant being change itself. What established the good times were the bad, and the rich were simply that because of the poor. Hate was brought forth from the lack of love, and love itself could branch between the furthest gaps of detestation, legends and tales long telling of the times that it had happened.

Yet all of those seemed more like fables, especially now in the position which Robin found himself in. It had grown quiet between the two men who now had nothing to do but to wait, and think, and hope. There was always the smallest of hope; Robin had learned that during war. There were many things he had learned from, he realized, many things he still carried today. But he was ever learning, ever growing, and knew that he too had learned from his men, from his people, from Marian.

Marian.

She was his greatest regret. Though he had spoken his love for her those many months ago they seemed futile now, for what good were spoken words when actions failed to take place? A man could preach about the virtues of life, and commit the gravest of sins by choosing to not follow through on them afterwards. How was he any different?

He had given Marian his heart, then he had left for the war. What had been going through his mind then had not been much; he would be the first to admit so. Somehow a fantasy had played through his mind, that he could return home from war, bathed in glory, and take her as his wife, as though nothing had truly happened. But war had held many surprises, and as the days turned into years, Robin slowly realized his mistakes.

But he couldn't change the past, and with little hold on the future Robin found himself contending with the same feelings as before, when he had first come back from the Holy Lands. Any choice he made would determine the future for another. With the briefest of movement he glanced over to where Much sat across from him, Robin hiding the guilt he felt behind a calm façade.

The man was his loyal friend, and Robin knew that he had sealed Much's death quite a while before. Much would never abandon him, Robin knew, and that was the fatal flaw that he held. For it was this trait that led him to be an outlaw, whereas the man could be residing as a Noble in Bonchurch. Now he would be hanged, a fate that awaited Robin as well.

For the rest of his men, only time would tell. The Sheriff would know that there would be others around. Allan and John were relatively safe, for no one would look at their own in attempt to find criminals. Yet Djaq and Will, though armed, were in a graver situation simply because of their vulnerability. If a fight did break out, innocents would be at risk, and the pair would hold their ground in order to spare lives. The right thing to do, but a death sentence for them.

Robin let out a sigh, his gaze falling back to the floor where his weapons lay. He had been a fool, and now his men would pay for his mistakes. Such was life, as unfair as it could be, and yet he had no control over it. Sadly it was something he should be used to. Born as a noble, most of his life had been planned for him, and he had taken over as the Lord of Locksley at a relatively young age with the passing of his parents. Politics had been in his mind since he was a youth, and he had dealt with power and laws all the while he grew up. Leaving for the war had been one of the few things he had specifically chosen for himself. Perhaps that was why he had wanted it so deeply. For once in his life, Robin had wanted to do something on his own. A poor reason for his own sake, he knew.

Yet his life had been nothing but choices since he fled into the forest. A choice not only for himself, but for his men as well. Robin raised his head, the sounds reaching his ear despite how quiet they were. Without a word his eyes meet Much's, the man nodding towards his unasked question. Carefully, moving slowly as to not make a sound, Robin grasped the hilt of his sword, moving to his feet. His bow was slung over his shoulder, useless in such close quarters as this, he knew, but close by in case he should find a need to use it.

Much had his own sword drawn, standing near the middle of the room, shield in front as he waited for the door to open. Robin took up a stance next to him, listening as the footsteps drew closer, heavy armored boots, metal clanging against metal. How many there were exactly, Robin would not be able to tell merely by sound, but he could get a rough idea, and it wasn't promising.

The scraping of wood, the clinging of metal, and Robin exchanged one last look with his companion, whispering a quiet encouragement should they not see one another in this life again. His heart was hammering in his chest, the sound reverberating in his ears, Robin counting the beats as he controlled his quiet breaths.

Every sense was heightened, his body prepared for the fight it had done so many times underneath the burning sun. His ears could hear what his eyes could not see, faint odors lingering in the air and he could identify them without even thinking. He was a warrior, and every muscle in his body was about to prove that fact in only a few short moments.

Strands of light shot through the opening as the door began to move, Robin first taking a step back to avoid the wide arc of the door, then without a word he charged. He leaned forward, bringing his sword up firmly, meeting the downward swing of the first guard, the clash rendering the unsuspecting guard weaponless in one motion. With a turn, Robin brought the hilt of the sword against the man's head, moving into the fray of the fight even as the first man fell.

He would still hold true to his honor, to avoid bloodshed and killing if possible, but Robin also knew that he would not lose this fight alone. Ducking he avoided one blow, blocking another with his sword, kicking out at the advancing man, knocking him to the ground. Around him were cries, shouts, and screams, but Robin hardly heard them, filtering them through his mind as he done so back in war.

Near him, Much fought with his own method, a combination of jabs and thrusts, plowing over more men with his sturdy shield, using the protective defense more as a weapon than armor. Robin managed a quick glance to his comrade before he was pulled back to the situation at hand.

Though the corridor was plenty big enough for several men to walk down, it provided little room for such a battle and the close quarters were unnerving for the man. In the Holy Land, the spaces had been wide, they had been open, Robin had been more at ease. Now it felt as though he was suffocating, and the harder he fought to break free, the further back he was pushed.

It didn't detour him though. Hard, heavy breaths clouded the air, sweat clinging to his brow, dampening the long locks of hair that had grown and mussed from life in the forest. The dust from the empty room had been stirred up by the sudden forceful motions and now was lingering heavily around them, clouding their vision. Robin was quick to seize the opportunity, breaking through another guard's weakened defense, calling to Much as he pushed through.

He was met with another blow, this one Robin barely managing to stop, Much lending the needed hand as he followed. The path clear before them now, there was no encouragement needed to flee. Robin was wise in choosing his battles, and the man knew that this one was already lost. What was important now was getting out alive.

Fresh air greeted them as they reached the open courtyard, the chill a blessed welcome to their heated flesh as they raced down the stairs. Already more guards were coming, the alarm having been raised. Yet here they were not so trapped, but the difficulty still lay in finding the others, and seeing to their own safe escape. Robin was waiting, and the first blow that came was not a surprise, and he blocked it easily.

Truth be told it was more a dance than a fight itself. Footwork was crucial, and one could not always count on brute strength to win a battle. This was even more true for Robin. His small stature had always been a downfall in other's eyes, but Robin used that belief to his own advantage, playing off on their underestimations. His loss in stature was made up in agility, and speed, and his ability as a marksman only heightened his perception of what was happening around him. This made him a formidable warrior, one that prompted him into the King's private guard without question.

And everything he had learned, he had not forgotten. He was as much a part of war as war was part of him, despite how much he wanted to deny it. He felt it during the day, and saw it in his mind during the nights, the dreams and terrors refusing to leave him in peace. And each time he fought, he was just not battling other men, but his own demons as well.

Even now, as he cut through the fray, searching for an opening, the memories of what he had done, of what he could still do, lingered in his mind, surfacing on the edge like a daunting threat, reminding him of just exactly what he could become. That he could be a man that Robin did not know. A man, that he did not like.

Since leaving the Holy Lands he had vowed to never return to such a state. Though his words were faulty, for he had led himself into a trap when he had taken Guy prisoner after learning of his treachery. And his actions then had seemed reasonable, and though he was saved from doing any great evil, he was still ashamed of his actions, and yet he could feel the same hideous feeling creeping back into his body with each thrust of his sword.

The lust for blood, to do what he knew how to do so well, was overwhelming in the heat of battle, and it took a greater strength to keep it at bay than the strength he needed to defend his own self. This was not a fight to protect any peasants, or a fight for justice; instead it was a fight for his own life, the life of his men, his friends. Robin knew that stakes were higher, that the risks were greater.

Much called out to him, Robin seeing the opening only moments after he had, and without hesitation moved towards it. They were winning, albeit by just a little, yet it was encouraging. Then their exit, the promise to their freedom, was cut off, another branch of guards moving in, this time led by Gisborne himself. Robin held his sword firmly, breathing heavily as he and Much came to a stop, ready and waiting for the charge.

"Master, what do we do?"

"Wait," Robin responded quietly in between his breaths. He needed to draw the guards out from the gates, and then find a way to slip through.

"Hood," Gisborne called to him, acknowledging him by his latest given name, sword in his own hand. "I figured it would be longer before you showed your face around here again."

"What can I say? I enjoy the challenge!"

"A fool's errand. Surely you must have known the Sheriff was expecting you. Did you actually think we would not take any precautions?"

"Luck," Robin informed him with a nod, "we all have our days."

"True, but your day is not today. Kill them."

Trained men they were, but they did not have the same level of experience as Robin or Much. It was the one thing in their favor, and Robin waited patiently as they charged, bringing his sword up at the last moment. The two fought back to back now, countering the blows that came from the sides together, working as one unit. They had done so many times before, and it was no secret.

Slowly they began to break off as the number was lessoned, Robin pushing back towards the gate. They needed to get out soon, needed to find the others. His next swing was met with a clash, Gisborne's weapon entangling with his own. Robin kicked out quickly, dislodging them, bringing his sword up for another strike.

But Gisborne had been expecting it, dropping to a knee instead as the strike sailed over harmlessly. Robin moved quickly to regain his footing, but it wasn't quick enough. From the corner of his eye he could see Gisborne moving already, his clenched hand a blur through the air, the strike landing exactly where it had been planned.

Robin let out a cry as the fist impacted his still healing wound, the pain dropping him to ground as it raced through his body. He tried to move back to his feet, knowing he had naught the time to linger, but he couldn't breathe, the air from his lungs stolen from the fierce pain, and it was all Robin could do to feebly block the incoming blows.

He was not alone though, the next blow being pressed backwards as Much broke through the fray, forcing the other man back, and giving Robin the time he needed. And the crusader was quick, clenching his teeth tightly as he clumsily tried to stumble to his feet. There was not enough time, another guard there, already moving towards him.

Instead of an expected strike, the guard wrapped an arm about his chest, pulling him to his feet. "We go, now!"

"John!" Robin breathed, grasping the other man's arm tightly in thanks. His side was still on fire, and his breaths were coming in short spurts that weren't nearly enough for his starved body and so he nodded in agreement.

"The…others?"

The battle broke open into sudden madness, guards fighting other guards, and supposed Nobles pulling forth weapons from concealment as they joined the fray. Robin still held onto John, fighting off the pain, but the man wasn't going to give him time to rest. Even as the rest of his men fought off the remaining guards, forcing Gisborne back, John was already moving to the gate, helping Robin along.

But Robin wouldn't leave them behind, slipping his fingers into his mouth and letting out a sharp whistle, the best he could offer at the moment. The group was well trained, retreating almost immediately as Robin passed through the gates with John, mounting the guard's horses. Much was up behind him in a moment, and Robin paused long enough to wait for the others before taking the lead, urging the horse into a gallop, the confused creature obeying its new master, and leaving the city behind.

* * *

Sherwood was a welcoming sight, one which Robin relished happily. He would not be willing to return to the dungeons of Nottingham so soon, and the possibility of that happening had already crossed his mind more than once. The aroma of the forest held heavily in the air, reminding him that he was indeed home. A funny thing if you could call it that.

They had long ago abandoned the horses, John and Allan ridding themselves of their own guard uniforms in favor of their simple wardrobe that blended easily into the forest. For Will and Djaq they had no other choice but to remain in their clothing until they reached the camp, treading the path cautiously should they happen to be seen in their bright wardrobe.

It was silent between the group, the aftereffects of the close call still weighing heavily on everyone. Robin did not know how the others knew of the trap, and though curiosity pulled at his mind he wasn't about to inquire. His side burned fiercely, and his breaths still came in uneven draws, each movement only adding to the current pain.

It was a weakness; Gisborne knew that he would still be recovering. Robin should have known that the man would use that against him. But Robin had fought without that knowledge, leaving his weakness vulnerable. A deadly mistake in any battle. His men had seen him out of there alive, and for that he was thankful.

"I'm not being funny, but we nearly got ourselves killed back there. That was not a very good idea."

Robin nodded, agreeing with Allan. "We were unprepared. We will do better next time."

"There shouldn't be a next time," Will told him gruffly. "We should stay with feeding the poor; it's what we are good at."

"We feed the poor, but they have no money to pay taxes, so they are thrown in prison or taken to the gallows to hang," Robin replied, "We must fight both, we cannot just choose our battles."

"Robin is right," Djaq spoke up, coming to a stop. "The people are taken to Nottingham, there are no poor to feed. They are poor because the Sheriff takes everything. They are poor because they have nothing left to give. Food will keep them alive, but the Sheriff will kill them because they have no money. We must stop the Sheriff."

"Leave the Sheriff," John voiced sternly. "We help the poor."

"We are helping the poor," Robin argued, "every time we stop the Sheriff, we win. The poor win."

"What about what we want?" Allan wondered. "Or does that not matter?"

"What?" Robin breathed, turning to face him.

"Not being funny, but you've been givin' out orders without asking any of us what we want."

"And what do you want Allan?"

"We should get some of this too. We do all this work, and we give it all away."

"That's what we do," Robin emphasized, leaning against a tree. "It is what we have always done."

"We've always helped the poor," Will cut in, "we aren't doing much of that anymore."

Robin let out a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes. There were always arguments before, but never quite like this. Robin blamed it on the long winter, of having to keep to the woods due to the recent events. Yet the tension was so visible it could be cut with a hunting knife, and even the smallest of things could break the frazzled bond between them if they were not careful.

Robin worked on choosing his words wisely, but was not given the time to do so as the words left Much's lips.

"Fire! There's a fire!"

Robin turned, following his gaze and could see the smoke rising from the trees. He took off in a sprint, ignoring the pain in his side as he worked to keep up with his men. His heart was beating fiercely in his chest again, but this time for an entirely different reason, his fears confirmed as they reached the edge of the sloping hill.

"How?" Much cried, moving down the hill, "How did they find it?"

"This store room was hidden," Allan shook his head. "They couldn't have found it…no one knew this was here save for us."

Robin closed his eyes, lowering his head. "Not exactly…"

"What?"

It was Much who had questioned him, but Robin only shook his head, making his way down the hill to join the rest of his men. "Is there anything left?"

"No," Will answered quietly. "Everything is gone."

He had expected it, of course. Yet there had been a fleeting hope, as foolish as that was. Angrily he kicked a pile of dirt onto the ruined mess. Not only were they out of food now, but the storeroom could no longer be used with its location known. That would put a hampering on them in the future to come.

"Who?"

Robin looked at Will questioningly, raising an eyebrow.

"Who else knew?"

Who else? Robin shook his head, not wishing to think about it. Betrayal was a troublesome matter, and he would not speak grim thoughts such as treachery unless he knew for certain. Certain words were hard to take back once they were spoken.

"It was him, wasn't it?" Will pressed when he did not respond. "It was Collin."

"We do not know that," Robin cut him off. "But I will find out."

"Not being funny but Collin doesn't even know where our storeroom is, how could he?"

"Collin helped me move the food," Will informed him. "When Robin was still hurt. I told you he was with Gisborne now."

"We do not have proof," Robin argued.

"Gisborne was not in Nottingham because he was here stealing our store."

"Gisborne was there," Robin said fiercely, the ache in his side tangible proof to that matter. "I fought him!"

"He did not show until later!" Will cried, "We followed him, how do you think we found you?"

"I will take care of this," he responded, his voice low.

"No," Will shook his head. "I said we shouldn't go, I knew we shouldn't have gone, and now we have nothing!"

"We should have not gone," John agreed, "This, I do not like."

"It was a mistake," Robin agreed, "but we can't change that."

"And we can't afford mistakes," Will cried. "The poor cannot afford mistakes!"

"I can't afford mistakes," Allan agreed.

"Then leave," Robin cried angrily.

The words had left his mouth before he had even thought them through, but he was weary, tired of the constant arguments, tired of being questioned, tired of it all.

"What?"

The emotion that covered Will's face was a mixture of anger and confusion, a spark of fire behind his eyes that burned fiercely with a painful reminder of his past. Robin knew the man felt strongly about this, and could understand his anger, but he wouldn't fight with him.

"Leave," Robin repeated, his voice quiet and calm, an unusual trait for the current moment. "No one is making you stay."

"Robin, no" Djaq shook her head, moving closer to the two.

"You do not agree with my leadership; then do not follow me. The same goes for the rest of you."

"You are banishing me?" Will asked quietly, the anger still written on his face.

"No," Robin corrected him. "Either follow me without question, or go your own way. You feel you can do better, than do better, you don't need me."

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair," Robin reminded him. "I gave up my house, my home, for your life, for your brother's life. The Sheriff kills each and every day; it doesn't matter if you are rich, or if you are poor, if you are the breadwinner or the beggar on the street. Life is many things Will, but it is not fair. Now make your choice."

There was a stretch of silence, Robin never breaking eye contact with the younger man. There were many things he could say to persuade the youth to stay, but Robin knew that this was a decision Will had to make on his own. Sometimes there were lessons that had to be learned the hard way.

It was not that Robin did not trust Will's word, but rather that the man was listening to his heart rather than thinking with his head. Robin had done that many times before, and it had ended with disastrous results. Unfortunate lessons, but ones that had shaped who he was as a person.

Finally Will shook his head, throwing his hands in the air. "Then I am leaving."

"Get your stuff from camp, be gone by sundown."

"This I do not like," John broke in, stepping forward.

"Then leave as well."

"You just can't…banish everyone," Much stuttered, glancing from one man to the next.

"Would you care to join them?" Robin asked coldly.

"Master, surely…"

"Well?"

Slowly Much shook his head, stilling his tongue. Robin turned to Djaq who was standing quietly, silent tears glistening in her eyes. They were ignored however, as he then turned to Allan.

"By sundown?" There was a look of puzzlement on Allan's face.

"If you are leaving," Robin answered.

Allan let out a sigh, his eyes drifting upward. "Doesn't leave much time then."

"Go," Robin said quietly, glancing around the small group, "the rest of you with me. We have work to do."

**TBC**


	7. Plans

**Thanks for the reviews! Another chapter, quick update :)**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Plans**

The three travelers made their way through the woods with little effort. By now they had gotten so used to the terrain it presented no real difficulty. They knew what the land offered, they knew what secrets it held, and they knew the safest and easiest way to travel. Yet what they did not know was their destination.

There was a solemn silence between all of them, as if afraid to breathe a word, following the slender man without question. Only Robin knew where they were going, and the man had yet to divulge them in the details. Much was shortly behind him, the look on his face betraying his obvious feelings. For Djaq, she strayed further behind, always keeping them close in sight, but allowing herself enough room to sort out her thoughts.

The sudden change had taken her by surprise. The differences among the men had been brewing for some time now. She was no fool. Djaq herself had come from a house in which there were many fights and disagreements. War had then clouded the land, and the verbal quarrels had seemed as though they never even existed. With men there was always war, even among men who were friends.

She would not pretend to understand, and would try her best not to judge. She neither knew, nor understood of the history between Robin and his men. They were all outlaws when she had first crossed paths with them. In her mind she could see no different Robin. The stories of his nobility, of his courage in the Holy Lands, none of those images would enter her mind. It was not something she could fathom.

Yet this, this did not feel right. She was still in her dress from earlier, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the ring on her finger. The same one Will had placed there. Her only regret was that it had been an act, instead of for real. For a brief moment, she had played her role as though it had been the truth. Djaq had carried herself proudly, arm wrapped about Will's, the feeling strange yet welcoming. She hadn't any suitors back home. Not with the war…

No, she had become her brother, had pretended her masculinity in order to save her own skin. The ploy had worked, and several times she had been spared, overlooked as young and weak boy. Then more she pretended, the easier it became. Soon, she was not only Djaq out in public; she was Djaq inside her own home. Then fate would it have it, her own guise would land her in trouble.

Crated as an animal, and treated as such, she had endured the long hard journey like many of her companions. They knew of her gender, but dared not to speak of it, for simple fear of what would happen. She had been frightened as well, and the first time she had met Robin face to face her fears had only increased. Bad enough that they were treated like animals, but then they were faced with a group of thieves.

Still, as her mother had told her, promise came in the strangest of ways. And Robin had been the promise, Robin had been her freedom. His own beliefs, his values, what he fought for, it had intrigued her. Part of her wished that she could do the same for the ones she loved, and it was the reason she had stayed. As well as the knowledge she would be returning to a war ridden land if she had left.

Till now she had trusted his judgment. With the latest happening, she wasn't so sure. Still she could not abandon him; she was not the kind of person that chose sides opposite of her leader. Loyalty was a strong value, especially where she came from. Part of her believed, and hoped, that Robin would somehow redeem himself. Given time he would calm down, and then she could speak with him, help him understand.

"I still can't believe you banished them," Much spoke suddenly, breaking the silence.

Djaq was agreeing silently, working up the hill after them.

"I didn't banish them," Robin replied quietly.

"What?" Much laughed, watching the man. "What would you call it then?"

"If you are banished you cannot return," Robin explained. "I never said they couldn't come back."

Djaq hurried up her pace, moving closer to the pair. "You mean that?"

"Of course," Robin sighed, turning towards her. "Everyone just needs some time to calm down, that's all."

"Right," Much agreed, "I knew that….but how are they supposed to know that?"

"I'm sure they'll figure it out soon enough," Robin commented, taking the lead once more. "They're smart."

"But why send them off?" Djaq asked. "Why not just back to camp?"

"Some things they have to figure out on their own. I can't have them questioning my leadership."

"Your leadership is always right?" Djaq asked.

"No," Robin was quick in answering. "There are mistakes, but they are in the past. We learn from them, and we move on. We cannot argue about them, it only divides us, I've seen it happen before."

"The war?" Much asked, prompting a nod from the man.

"It was not me," Robin explained. "Another crusader, Sir Daniel. He was a good man, a strong leader, but his men were not entirely convinced. Daniel tried to keep the differences at bay, he felt that by keeping strict with his men, they would not quarrel, or question him. The harder he pushed, the worse they became. Soon they stopped listening altogether, and began acting on their own accord. Then they were attacked, and everyone tried to do what they felt was best."

"What happened?" Djaq asked as the man paused.

Robin let out a sigh, shaking his head. "They were killed. Daniel made it out alive, but his men…they were greedy, and they stopped listening. For me, I would rather lose the trust of my men than have them lose their lives."

"They saved your life," Djaq pointed out, "We all did."

"Yes," Robin nodded, coming to a stop as he faced her. "Because we worked as group. The more we fight, the less of a group we become, the greater the risk. If we are all fighting for the same goal, we are stronger. Fight for different goals, then we are weak, we are vulnerable."

"But what if they do get killed?" Much asked, watching them. "You've always made the plans…"

"They will be fine," Robin reassured him.

"How?"

Djaq watched as Robin let out a sigh, placing a hand on Much's shoulder. "My friend, it is different for you, I understand. You have always followed me, and trusted me to lead, but they have not. They have been on their own before, they will know how to care for themselves. Now, let us go."

"Right," Much nodded, "Where are we going?"

"Locksley."

"Ah…why?"

"We will need food," Robin answered mildly.

"And Locksley will…have this food?"

There was no verbal response from the man, instead he merely grinned, turning away.

"You are going to steal from your own house?" Much cried out in alarm, hurrying after him. "That is…that is…"

"Genius," Djaq finished with a smile.

"It is my house Much, so truthfully I am not stealing."

"What about the food they took from our store?"

"Well, I gather it is in the castle by now, if Gisborne and his men did take it for sure. We may have been robbed by a handful of curious thieves for all we know."

"No honor among criminals?" Djaq wondered, shaking her head. England was certainly an interesting place. Back home, such a thing was unheard of, a sort of common brotherhood among the thieves. Yet who was she to question the custom of other countries?

"If the food is in the castle," Robin explained, "Then the Sheriff will be expecting us. I am not quite ready to race into another trap."

"Oh, so you need more time then?" Much nodded, scoffing. "That makes perfect sense. So what do you plan to do? Saunter in up to your house and tell Gisborne you are going to rob him?"

The man shrugged, "Something like that."

* * *

Carefully he wound the last corner around the branch of the tree, securing it with a firm knot. The blanket itself was small, but having been lashed together with several others, the material spread a good ways out, providing enough shelter for the three of them. The excess material cluttered on the top of the boulder they had chosen, weighed down by more even more rocks on top to keep the wind from blowing the makeshift cover up.

With a nod to himself, Will moved under the blanket, kicking out the excess dirt and debris, unrolling the flimsy bedroll next to the base of the boulder. It wasn't the greatest of camps, but for now it would have to do. When he and the others found a good location, Will would began construction on a more solid camp, but at the moment he had neither the time nor the materials.

"Not being funny, but you built that camp," Allan said, watching him work. "Shouldn't we be able to have it?"

He had felt that way too, but he also knew he had built it under Robin's instruction. Truth was that it did not matter who built it, it belonged to the person it was built for. "Robin's the leader, his call."

"This is fine," John agreed quietly, sitting down on a log. It had been surprising that the man had even come along, Will being certain that John would remain with Robin. Yet the man had said little, only following them through the forest carrying a satchel of goods.

"We should have taken more," Allan chimed in again. "We did half that work, we should get half the booty."

"We did take half," John told him. "There was not much to take."

"Most of it was in the storeroom," Will nodded, easing himself down on the bedroll.

"And if we had our own store back at camp, we would have more."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Will questioned Allan, watching him.

"Our own personal shares," he laughed. "Say we take some coins from a Nobleman, or a passing trade group. We keep some of those coins for ourselves. That way, we can take care of ourselves. Have money on our hands; buy ourselves a mug of ale, a warm piece of meat, whatever we want. Build a fortune you know. The King is going to come back sooner or later, we need provisions for the future."

"We need to help the poor," Will reminded him. "We can take care of ourselves just fine."

"But we can still help the poor," Allan argued, "we are the poor too you know. What about helping ourselves?"

"We do not help ourselves," John cut in.

"Fine," Allan shrugged. "You two can give your share away, but I'm keeping mine."

"Your share?" Will laughed, "Who says you even get a share?"

"If I am doing the work then I want my pay. This isn't an easy job."

"No, it isn't. We didn't ask for an easy job, we asked to do what was right. You want to do it your way, then you can leave."

Allan scoffed, "You can't kick me out."

"Yes I can."

"Who ever said you were in charge? This isn't your camp."

"I made this camp," Will reminded him.

"You made the last camp, and you left that one."

"My choice; and if I don't want you in my gang then you can leave."

"No one leaves," John broke in, quieting the quarreling pair. "We stay together."

"Yeah," Allan agreed, pointing towards him. "What he said."

"We do not take for ourselves," John spoke again, staring each one down. "We help the poor."

"How are we to do that then?"

Will let out a sigh, sitting up. "We need to find our food. Gisborne would have taken it back to the castle. We have to figure out a way in."

"I know several ways, but honestly, I am not risking my neck for a bunch of peasants who are just going to thank Robin in the end."

"John and I will find a way in ourselves then," Will nodded, thinking it over now. There would be a lot of cleaning going on, taking care of the mess that had been left after the dance. A lot more guards, a lot more eyes. The main courtyard and hall was off limits. But the sewage systems would still be open…

"We can go around the north entrance, and use the shoots…"

"Won't work," Allan cut him off. "You ever think about how much garbage they'll all be throwing out after a party like that? You'll drown in sewage if you're lucky enough to not get caught."

Will let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Fine Allan, you can have your share. If…you help us get into the castle."

"With pleasure," Allan replied, a smile playing on his face. "This way gentleman, we are going to Nottingham."

* * *

It was dark by the time they had reached Locksley, Robin leading the way as they ran the length of the village, hugging the edge of the forest. The man came to a stop behind an old broken fence, hood up as he glanced over the top. By now everyone was indoors, most of the peasants asleep. Yet the one house he was interested was still brimming with light.

More guards had been added outside his house, convincing Robin that something indeed was going on. He turned back to Much and Djaq, giving them a slight nod before moving off once again. In strategic patterns, they moved closer to their destination, coming around from the behind. The store for Locksley was in back, sealed tightly, but the former Lord of Locksley had learned quickly how to pick the lock. A handy trait whenever he had misplaced the keys, and it would prove even more useful now.

Checking his surroundings one last time Robin made his way quietly towards the store, pulling free a small dagger. Quickly he worked it into the lock, prying it open with little hassle in only moments. Djaq and Much were at his side shortly after as Robin opened the doors, his ears straining for any sign that they had been heard. Yet it was quiet, a promising feature.

"Move what you can back to the trees, and hide it well. We will find a better spot when we have more time," he told the pair quietly. "I will return shortly."

"Where are you going?" Much asked worriedly, grabbing him by the arm to keep him from moving.

Robin shook him off, turning back to face him. "There is something I must do."

"No," he shook his head, "You cannot go in there. You barely made it out last time."

"I will be back," Robin told him, waiting until the other man nodded with a sigh. Robin gave him a short smile, a single nod, and then was off, moving along the house carefully.

With a short jump he grasped the bottom of the roof, pulling himself up with a soft groan. His side was still hurting from where Gisborne had hit him earlier, and his body protested against the strenuous movement. Once he had made the climb, Robin paused for a breath, hand pressed against the throbbing wound. Shortly it died to a dull throb, and the man began moving once more, taking care to keep his eyes on the guards in front.

They were talking idly, trying to keep themselves occupied during the long watch. Robin listened intently, picking up their words, but moved on when it was nothing of importance. As he reached the top window, he took his time peering inside, watching as the man moved about the room, sitting down on the bed. The door was closed, and Robin knew that now was the perfect time to move.

Collin was on his feet moments after Robin was in the room, the worry on his face being replaced by irritation. "Robin, you shouldn't be here."

"This is my house," Robin told him quietly, moving over to the door to listen. It was quiet, a good sign. "I think you'll find I can be here when I wish to be."

"If Gisborne sees you up here…"

"You'll what?" Robin cut him off, "tell him more of our secrets?"

"I didn't have a choice," Collin told him angrily.

"Everything is a choice, everything we do."

"So my choice was to hang?" Collin questioned him. "Truthfully it was your fault; you shouldn't have been here in the first place. Gisborne knew; now I am under constant watch by him because he does not trust me. The slightest of mistakes and I'll be taken to the gallows."

"My men and I would have gotten you out," Robin reminded him.

"I was to hang this morning," he argued, "you wouldn't have even known."

"So you betray me instead?"

"Showing Gisborne the food store is hardly betrayal Robin."

"No? What about the villagers? What will they eat? Where are we to store our provisions?"

"I could have taken him to your camp," he spat out.

Collin was a man with quick reflexes, but not even he could stop Robin. The blade of the dagger was pressed up under his chin, forcing him against the wall as Robin drew closer, the anger clear in his voice. "Do not, cross me."

"So you will kill me instead?"

Robin let out a sigh, pulling back almost as quick as he had attacked. No, he would not kill, that anger and passion had left him long ago back in the Holy Lands. Yet it did not mean that he wished to kill. Collin was rubbing his neck gently, a cross of worry and relief on his face.

"You are lucky," Robin whispered to him quietly. "You ever, cross me again, and I will kill you."

His gaze left the other man's, turning towards the door as footsteps could be heard echoing through the room. That was his cue to leave, and Robin didn't waste any time in leaping back out the window, holding the railing for support.

Out of sight, Robin remained near the open window, listening as the door opened. He chanced a glance over the rim, watching as Gisborne entered the room, walking about the other man. Collin's gaze flicked towards the window, meeting his briefly, but the man turned away as Gisborne began to speak.

"Who were you speaking with?"

Robin held his breath, watching, waiting. If Collin was to betray him here then he would have to depart very, very quickly. His only hope was that Much and Djaq would be finished, or close enough to provide easy comfort.

"No one in particular Sir Guy," Collin answered, "Just myself. It helps me to think."

"Does it now?" Gisborne shook his head. "Interesting."

"I was just about to bed down for the night sir. If you don't mind."

"I do," Gisborne told him quietly. "You are taking the night watch, a little reminder to what your loyalties are. Prove to me that I can trust you."

Another possible difficulty; Robin watched, his eyes never leaving the man inside.

"How," Collin asked.

"This consignment of silver is heading out in the days to come, towards Nottingham Castle. I would be very displeased if something were to happen to it."

"We are guarding silver?"

_Silver? _Surely it had to be a rather large amount, if it called for this many guards. Could that really be the only reason for all of this?

"Did I stutter?" Gisborne asked, receiving a negative from the other man. "You will take the night watch alone, no breaks. I still expect your morning duties to be done on time as well."

Collin's only answer was an affirmative, his voice quiet but tainted heavily with discontent. Robin felt only a twinge of sorrow for the man, but let it pass quickly. The man had betrayed him, and there was no telling what other lies he would spill in order to save his own neck.

Robin left the open window, moving as Guy left the room, scaling the rooftop easily. If there was a chest of silver, the easiest time to snag it would be during the forest trek. He and the others knew the lay of the land well enough; they could use it to their advantage.

"A consignment of silver? But it hasn't even arrived yet."

Robin came to a pause, his ears straining. Had he just truly heard that? Carefully he stepped over the weak patches in the roof, coming near another window, risking a glance inside. Gisborne was moving through the room, another guard at his heels.

"You and I are the only ones who know this. I wish for it to remain that way. It would be rather unfortunate if word got out."

"Sorry Sir Guy, I just don't see much point in guarding an empty chest. Surely there are more important tasks we could attend to?"

"If the man is feeding information to Hood, Robin will surely attack the decoy on the way. He's done it once before, the Sheriff is certain it will work again. I want you to feed this story to the villagers, let them know that it will be coming through the village. Tell them they have to remain indoors."

"Why?"

"Because," Guy stressed, the irritation in his voice real. "We want make sure Hood goes after the chest, which will give us time to get the shipment in, and prepare it for its departure to Prince John."

Robin bit his lip to suppress the curse that threatened to leave his lips. Another trap…but where was the silver coming from? More importantly was there any way in retrieving it before it arrived?

Yet he would get no further information, the pair leaving the room, concealing the rest of their discussion. Robin pulled away as his name was being called, Much waving to him from below. With a short nod he moved to the edge, first lowering himself down then dropping the rest of the way, landing silently. There was a lot that had to be done in the coming days.

**TBC**


	8. Leaders

And yet another chapter. Thanks for the continually feedback, appreciate it very much!

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**Chapter Eight: Leaders**

In the end they had decided to bring the food back to the camp. Robin wasn't entirely sure how safe their other stores were at the moment, and wanted everything close by just in case. He had taken the time to stop by the barn before leaving Locksley, passing a bit of food to his former servants, leaving them with wise words to keep it well hidden. When Gisborne discovered the theft the man would more and likely cut their food back, blaming them. Robin had wanted to make sure that they had enough food.

Between the three of them it had been manageable to carry everything back. It was no great feast, but it would feed several of the villagers into the next week while they sorted out a plan of action. Having half the group gone was actually helpful at the moment, for it provided them with an area to store the food temporarily.

Much was quick in making a fire, Djaq busying herself with sharpening the knives used for hunting. Though there were many things Robin could be doing, the only thing his body craved was respite from the long day. Questions of his own actions were working their way through his mind, the man wondering if what he had done was right, but worrying more if the others were doing well.

Silently he convinced himself that they were. John had been an outlaw years before Robin had even ventured off to war, and knew quite a bit more about the forest life than any of them did. The man would keep an eye on Will and Allan, and ensure their safety. Yet even this knowledge did not ease all of his worries.

Robin let out a groan as he sat down, a hand crossing his chest to hold his side as the injury protested at the movement. It had been throbbing with a dull ache since leaving Nottingham, and now it burned with a steady pain. After a moment the ache lessened, dying away to a tender throb as Robin closed his eyes.

"You hurt."

Robin nodded, letting out a breath as he did so. There really was no point in trying to deny it, and knew that Djaq would see to him despite any protests he gave. Still the pressure from her touch caused him to flinch, drawing in a sharp breath as he opened his eyes.

"Robin's hurt?" Much asked worriedly, glancing up over the fire. "How? Where?"

"It's nothing Much," Robin reassured him, "I'm fine."

"Not good," Djaq shook her head, pulling away. "You are bleeding, why did you not say something?"

"I was busy," he replied crossly, pulling off his shirt, already knowing the drill that had been so forcefully pounded into his head. He was able to glance at it for the first time, letting out a groan as saw where the stitching had broken. At this rate he was nearly convinced that he would live the remainder of his days with a hole in his side.

"We could tie him up," Much suggested, roasting a bit of meat of the fire. "Just leave him like that until he gets better."

Robin let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Much…it is almost better now. Gisborne just got lucky, that is all."

"It needs to be cleaned," Djaq broke in, mixing several ingredients together. "You will get an infection if you do not."

"And then another fever," Much chided him. "I refuse to go through that again."

"Yes," Robin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Several weeks of sleeping and stuffing your face while I was ill was so difficult for you."

"I resent that," the man stated coldly. "I thought you were going to die. Then what would I have done?"

"Well you could have always gone with Sir Thomas, you seemed to enjoy his company well enough."

Much shook his head, glancing up at him. "I loathe that man, he likes to talk far too often. But he did make the most wonderful stew," he let out a placid sigh. "I miss his stew."

"Is that why you always disappeared during the evenings?" Robin wondered. "You told me you were taking walks."

"I was," Much defended himself. "If my walks happen to take me across his tent at the same time he was eating, then there really isn't a lot I can do about it, is there?"

Robin let out a laugh, shaking his head. Sometimes it seemed like all you had to do was offer the man a piece of food, and you would forever have his loyalty. Robin wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or not. His grin faded away as Djaq returned, supplies in hand.

"Drink," she pressed the cup into his hand.

"What is this for?"

"It will help," Djaq responded, moving to her knees next to him.

"It doesn't hurt that bad," Robin told her, offering the cup back. At the moment, he preferred to keep a clear mind. There were still many issues he wanted to sort through. But she was shaking her head.

"It will help me."

"Then why do I have to drink it?"

"Last time you had a fit, it was not easy for me," Djaq reminded him.

"I did not have a fit," Robin argued, fighting off the grin that was sneaking on his face. "I just had a lot to say."

"Drink."

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. Sometimes there were battles you could not win, and he had a sinking suspicion that this was one of them. "Will it really help?"

She nodded, "Yes."

He smelled it cautiously before taking a sip, finishing it off at her prompting. It had a bitter flavor, but it wasn't too entirely unpleasant. Yet even as he handed the cup back he could feel the warmth racing through his body, and the heaviness that was accompanied by it.

"You drugged me."

Djaq nodded, smiling at him. "Like I said, it will help."

The entire process of it all still amazed him. He was not a man of medicine, and did not understand the full properties of the science. Yet to Djaq, it was as clear and natural as archery was too him. She could understand it, control it, and use it without any effort, and it gave her a strength and a power that he could not match. It was the same way he felt each time he drew his bow.

"Do not fight it," she told him, meeting his weary gaze, "Just sleep."

Slowly he nodded; trusting her words even his world drew dark. Sleeping was easy part, but it was the waking that worried him.

* * *

Reluctantly, Will held back and let Allan take the lead. The outlaw had woven his words well, and had managed to convince him that he knew what he was doing. The problem with the man remained the fact that one could not tell when he was telling the truth, or exaggerating a lie. In either case, Will was out of ideas, and he knew that they needed to get that food, and soon. So he had backed down.

Together he and John were waiting outside of Nottingham, blending in with the others who were homeless and penniless. With a closer look one could tell that they were not like the others, but the beggars had never presented a threat, and Will knew they would not give their position away. Instead they seemed to watch the pair hopefully, yearning for even the smallest of handouts. Will knew that his was why they needed that food.

People were starving, and for those who had survived the winter, the spring was giving them little promise. Soon they would begin to lose their faith in them, believing that Robin had forgotten them. Will let out an impatient sigh, glancing over his shoulder. Where was Allan?

Sometimes he despised the man, such as now. He knew Allan had been right, that their efforts would be overseen, and the people of England would thank Robin. How long would that last, he wondered? When would people begin to thank them as individuals? Everyone knew Robin, all you had to say was that you were one of his men, and instantly people would trust you. But to use your own name?

To say you were Will Scarlet, or John Little, or even Allan-A-Dale and their brows would furrow, and they'd look at you in confusion. Will shook his head. It wasn't that he needed gratitude, but he wished it wouldn't be given away to someone else. He let out another sigh, pacing around to the other side of John.

"He will be here."

Will met John's gaze, "He should be here now. Every minute that passes by is another that the hungry continue to starve."

"Patience," John encouraged him. "We will do this."

He let out a breath, nodding. He had to be patient, he had to wait, had to trust Allan. That was what being a leader was about, it was about trusting others, about having faith in your men. Will nodded, trying to calm himself. Allan had parted from them nearly an hour ago, informing them to wait near the gate. He had claimed there was something they needed, something that would help them, but he wouldn't say what. And as time went by, Will couldn't help but think something had happened.

The thought worried him, because he knew Allan was his responsibility now. The same responsibility that Robin had once held for him. They made their own decisions, he knew, but Will knew that this plan was ultimately his. If Allan had been hurt, or even killed…

That had to be it; Will let out a regretful sigh, shaking his head. What else could it be? What else could have possibly happened? True, Allan wasn't always exact true to his word, but he was a decent man, you could usually count on him. Unless…

Will frowned now, huffing softly. Unless the man was taking his own share once again. It was what he had been wanting all along, and he had been ready to do so before, with Gisborne's money. Allan's quick words, and trickery had almost convinced him to travel to Scarborough and start a new life as well, which in turn led to abandoning Robin when had needed them most of all. If this was what Allan was doing now…

Will let out an impatient sigh, pacing back to the other side once more. He never made it though, John grabbing him by the arm and holding him still. "Enough."

It surprised him at first, but then he let out a lopsided smile, offering up an apology. "I'm just worried something will go wrong, that is all."

"We can do this," John encouraged him. "Allan will come."

Will nodded, calming himself once again. Yes, the man would come. Will repeated it over in his head. He had to come, they were counting on him.

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will," John cut him off. "Be patient. Wait."

"I hate waiting."

Will folded his arms in front of his chest, leaning against the bridge. The sun hung low in the sky, beginning to dip behind the tree line, casting shades of red across the clouds. Soon it would be dark, and the gates to Nottingham would close. If they didn't hurry…

Will knew they could scale the walls, they had done so before with minor difficulty, but that was when it was just themselves. They would have cargo with them, and the more they were able to carry, the better off they would be. His gaze shifted as the footfalls sounded on the bridge, the unmistakable trot of a horse and wagon drawing to a halt.

John's arm landed on his shoulder, the man motioning to the driver. Will had already seen him, confusion being replaced quickly by amusement. Allan sat at the front, disguised as a peddler, driving the old cart with confidence. For a brief moment their gazes met, and Allan nodded his head towards the back, turning to greet the guards without missing a single beat.

John had already moved, leaving Will behind. But he was quick in catching up, keeping low to the ground as he came up from behind. An old blanket covered the top of the cart, and John had pulled it open enough to slip inside, motioning for Will to go first. With little time, the man did not argue, instead climbing in head first, sliding down towards the front to make room for John.

It was damp, caked with mud and bits of dried dirt, creating an unpleasant atmosphere. Will took short breaths, wrinkling his nose at the thick odor as he listened to Allan sweet talk the guards. If there was one thing he could say, it was that Allan had a way with words. Sometimes he was so convincing in telling a lie that Will would believe it to be true himself for a short time. But then, when that was all one did, it became second nature, and the person would do it without any real thought.

He counted to ten, pausing for a moment before counting back down. They still hadn't moved, and Will's stomach tightened, worried that Allan's ploy was beginning to fail. What would happen if they were caught? They hadn't been charged with anything as of yet, he knew, and the chance of them being recognized as outlaws was slim. Still, even the smallest of things could result in the biggest of consequences.

But as the fears began to build, they were quickly forgotten as the cart jerked, falling quickly into a steady pace. They were moving once more, and despite his impatience, Will forced himself to wait a good measure longer before slipping out from under the heavy blanket.

Fresh air was a blessing, and he took a full breath, moving up to sit next to Allan. John too had broken out in the open, but kept low in the wagon to hide from anyone who might happen to pass by. The streets were nearly empty at this hour, and the guards hardly paid any attention to the traveling trio, more content with worrying about when they would be able to retire for the night.

"Told you I'd come through," Allan spoke, breaking the silence.

"I never said you wouldn't."

"You thought it," he accused.

"How would you know?"

Allan laughed, shaking his head, "Are you going to deny it?"

Will watched him for a moment, then shook his head. "You were taking a long time."

"I told you I had to get somethin' and I did."

"Where did you get this?"

Allan let out a sigh, but he was smiling still. "Robin and I found it in the forest a few months back. Thinkin' someone lost it in one of the winter storms. It was in decent shape, but we didn't need it for nothing. Not then anyways. So I went back to see if it was still there."

"You followed a hunch?"

"Well, you follow your hunches. It's come in handy several times now."

Will nodded, knowing that to be true. He wanted to point out that his hunches were different than Allan's, and therefore more dependable, but he had a feeling that he would not only lose that argument, but he would lose Allan's help as well.

"Not to pry, but how is this going to get us inside the castle? You said you could get us in."

"We don't need to get in the castle. Several of the stores are outside, and they're easy to get in to."

Will frowned, watching him. "How do you know? Robin's never said anything about them."

"Robin doesn't know," Allan returned, grinning slyly. "I consider it my own personal stash. If Robin started taking it, the Sheriff and Gisborne would stop using it, and then what would I do?"

He raised an eyebrow, watching the other man. "And if it disappears now…they're not going to wonder?'

Allan shrugged, "Won't need it anymore, not after I get my share. I'll be in business, won't need it for anything."

"Right," Will nodded, rolling his eyes as he turned away. He wouldn't complain, not as long as they were able to get the stores back out safely. "Given any thought on how we are going to get back out?"

"Through the morning traffic run. They're be enough going on that we can ride right on out of here without any problems."

"In the morning?" Will shook his head quickly. "We can't wait that long."

"Unless you want to figure a way out through a locked gate with a cart," Allan argued with him. "Besides, we have to wait to load the cart. If we do it too early, then someone will notice. Do it during the night, and leave in the morning."

He didn't much like the idea, but the day was already falling victim to the coming night, and Will knew that chances of slipping back out without drawing attention was slim. They would have to wait, and bide their time, just as Robin had done many of times. Gripping the side of the cart Will turned to look at John who still sat in back, the man nodding in quiet agreement at their conversation.

"Fine, we wait," Will stated. "What do we do until then?"

Allan pulled off the road, bringing the horse to a stop before he moved off the cart. "Whatever it is you want my friend. I, am going to the tavern. Come with, if you'd like."

Will exchanged glances with John, and then shook his head with a dumbfounded look. "You don't have any money, what are going to do?"

"Remedy that situation first," Allan told him, "Then have a bit of ale. What do you say?"

"I'm in," John said quickly, moving off the cart.

"This is a bad idea," Will cut in. "What if someone recognizes us?"

"Robin's not with us," Allan pointed out, "besides, anyone in here is probably too drunk to really know what's going on anyway. You can come in, or stay out here in the cold."

"Fine," Will let out a sigh, "one drink…then we finish the job."

* * *

When he woke the weak rays of the morning sun were dancing through the camp, which was strange, since he did not remember even sleeping. It felt as though mere moments had passed since he had closed his eyes, and though he was still resting in the same position, the slight ache in his limbs suggested otherwise. Slowly memory returned to him, but it was muddled, and Robin let out a sigh, working his way out of the blanket that had been tucked around him.

His side pulled painfully as he did, and Robin could see that his wound had been cleaned and dressed sometime during the night. Memory flared in his mind as his fingers brushed over the material gently, and he could remember Djaq, and the strange concoction she had made him drink. Though it had alarmed him then, Robin had been grateful for it overall. He felt worn, and tired, but overall calm, a feeling he hadn't sensed in quite some time.

He was alone in the camp though, the voices of the others drifting in from the outside, and Robin wasted little time in working his shirt back on, moving to his feet carefully. The warmth of full sun greeted him as he stepped outside, holding onto the top of the camp as he allowed his body to continue waking up.

"You're awake," Djaq commented, seeing him. "I was starting to worry."

"Why?" Robin asked, worried himself now.

"You slept for a long time," she commented, turning back to face Much. The pair sat around a small fire not too far out from the camp itself. "You were only supposed to sleep for a few hours, yet you slept all night, and some of the morning. You were tired."

Robin nodded, fighting off a yawn as he glanced around the area. He had been tired, he still was tired. Part of him wondered if he would ever feel any differently. Robin had convinced himself it was the weather, and the injuries, the troubled times he had been through. Surely when all of that was behind him, things would be more normal.

He continued to stay where he was, letting each memory slowly return. It felt as though he was waking from a heavy dream, and trying feebly to establish fiction from reality. He could remember bits and parts, in a jumbled mess, and for a moment cursed Djaq's attempted helpfulness, because there was something nagging at his mind that seemed important, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"Where is the food?" he asked suddenly, grasping the memory as it wandered by. He could remember carrying it back the night before, but now there was nothing.

"We uh, we took it to the villages," Much told him. "While you were sleeping."

"You left me here?" Robin asked him, slightly alarmed. "Alone…while I was drugged?"

"It was Djaq's idea really," Much laughed nervously, pointing towards the Saracen.

"You were sleeping," she commented, "We needed something to do."

Though he didn't agree with the logic he knew it was far too late to argue about it. No one had been able to find their camp before, so in truth there was no real threat. "You cover all the villages?"

Much shook his head, "Most, but there wasn't enough. We even gave up most of our own food. I didn't want to, but Djaq threa…" the man fell quiet, and Robin nearly missed the glare that the woman gave him. "Djaq said it would be best to give them our food too…and I, agreed…."

Robin let out a laugh, shaking his head. For Much to part with anything edible was near a death sentence to the man. Even he had difficulties convincing him, so it was a wonder to exactly what Djaq had threatened to force him to do so. Robin's gaze left the pair, searching the forest around them with a solemn frown.

"Where are the others?"

"Others?" Much questioned, the expression on his face matching the one on Djaq's. "You sent them away…don't you remember?"

Robin remained silent for a moment, shaking his head as the memory returned. "Right…I forgot."

"Is that normal?" Much asked, pointing at him.

Djaq nodded with a small grin. "It is only temporary. It will wear off soon."

Robin watched her with a frown, raising an eyebrow, "And you left me here alone?"

There were times he was not sure he entirely trusted the judgment of his group, this being one of those times. There were many thoughts racing through his mind now as he continued to wake up. He could remember sending the others off, could remember Locksley, could remember Collin.

The unwanted pain returned at the thought, and as much as he tried to brush it off he couldn't. The truth was that he barely knew the man; he had wanted to trust him, be able to count on him when and if needed. The fact Collin had saved his life was only the beginning. The man had ties to his past, to his family that the others did not have. Not even Much, who was his dear friend, and had been for many years.

The worst of it all was the fact that the others had been right about him. They had never trusted him, and now Robin knew why. He had been blinded, had been a fool to so openly trust him. Even now though, Robin couldn't fathom why Collin had led Gisborne to their store. Surely there were other options the man could have taken.

_I could have taken him to the camp._

The words echoed in his mind clearly now, and Robin knew that the man was right. A true betrayer would had led Gisborne straight to camp, unless he was biding time to wait for something better. But why wait for so long? If Collin was truly in league with the Sheriff and Gisborne, he would have spoken up earlier.

Quietly he let out a laugh, realizing his own errors. Collin had rescued him from the dungeons, the same dungeons that the Sheriff and Gisborne had him in. If the man truly wanted to help the pair, Collin would have let him hang instead of risking his own neck.

"You're not going mad are you?" Much asked, breaking into his thoughts.

The man was watching him, and Robin gave him a smile. "Why would you ask that?"

"You are standing on a hill laughing at nothing and no one," the man pointed out, turning to Djaq. "How much of that stuff did you give him?"

"I am not going mad," Robin convinced him, grinning as he moved down to join the pair.

"Never mind," Much told him quietly. "I don't want to know, I don't want to know even if you wanted to tell me. I don't want to hear any of your ideas, I just want to stay here, and sleep."

"We need to find out when that silver is coming in," Robin replied, easing himself on the ground carefully.

"Not listening," he interrupted, "I want to sleep…and dream of a feast…the feast we could have had…the feast we gave away…"

"You said it would not be in for a few days yet," Djaq responded. "How will you find out?"

"We need to go back to Locksley, and speak with the villagers."

Much frowned, watching him, "I thought you said the villagers were being fed false information."

"I thought you weren't listening," Robin mocked him quietly, wrapping his arms around his knees. "And yes, they are, for the most part."

"That doesn't make sense," Much stated quietly. "You already know the silver is not going to be in the chest. What's the point in asking them then?"

"The action does not matter," Robin explained, "It is the time. Gisborne expects us to go after the chest, so that they can bring the silver in."

"So when the decoy goes out," Djaq cut in, understanding now, "The silver will be coming in."

"Exactly," Robin nodded, "and villagers will know when the chest will be going out, and that's all we need to know."

**TBC**

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**To Marjatta:** At the moment, Robin seems to be giving Collin more grief than he deserves, but that will be attended to in later chapters. There are many things Robin could have done to handle things better, but with every action there is a reaction, and it helps advance the story along. Robin does have a bit of history with Collin, which was explored a bit in this chapter, and will be in coming chapters, but for now it is just a bit of tidbits here and there. And no, Robin does not assume Collin is setting up the trap, Gisborne gave the orders without knowing Robin was there, I think we may have had a miscommunication there. I hope this helps clear up some of the confusion!


	9. Decisions

**Thanks to all who reviewed, and to Kegel for betaing (very quickly :P)**

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**Chapter Nine: Decisions **

He hadn't wanted to come, and now as he entered the room he felt even more out of place. Walking about out in the open, among everyone, without the slightest of hesitation just didn't feel right. Will shook off the unnatural feeling, following the two men further into the tavern. Allan had led the way gleefully, moving towards a table in back. He almost seemed at ease here, and Will began to wonder how often the man ventured in here.

They weren't always together when they were back with Robin. They would split up into groups, or go off on their own from time to time, but still they had managed to keep in contact with one another throughout the day. It had seemed as though Robin had a knack for knowing where they were, or had gone; it was a trait that still to this day bemused Will.

Whatever the case, neither Robin nor Allan had made any mentioning of the tavern. Will wondered if Robin knew of the man's antics, or if Allan just had a knack for blending in with such surroundings. Either of the two wouldn't have surprised him. The slight touch to his shoulder startled him, but the surprise quickly passed as he found himself face to face with John, the man nodding towards the table. It wasn't until then that Will had realized he had been standing out in the open blocking the way.

He ignored the questioning glances, the strange looks as he moved to the table and sat down. Inside of him, his heart was pounding heavily; worried that someone would recognize them, that someone would point them out. They were a group of strange travelers, and John's bulky stature didn't them help them at all. If anyone would be recognized, surely it would be John.

But even the large man seemed to be at ease, resting comfortably as Allan ordered the drinks. Will glanced about himself nervously, but the patrons of the tavern had already forgotten the newcomers, rejoining in their previous conversations, merry drunken laughter filling the air. He let out a quiet sigh, his gaze turning back to the two other men as their drinks were set before them.

"Where did you get that?" Will wondered, watching as Allan tossed a coin to the serving girl.

The man smiled at him, bringing the mug up to his lips. "Can't help it if my hands are quick."

"You stole it."

"We've always stolen," Allan defended himself, bringing the mug back down.

"From those who could afford it," Will reproached him, "do you see any nobles in here? Any Lords or Ladies? No…all of these people here are hard working individuals, spending what little money they have to try and enjoy themselves. What if that was all they had?"

"So what?" Allan frowned. "We'll be helping these folks out come morning. Anyways, it's none of your business what I do."

"Allan, you can't steal from people then turn around and help them."

"We do not steal from the poor," John agreed firmly.

"Alright, I won't do it again," the man huffed angrily. "You're starting to sound like Robin now; I thought we left to do our own thing."

"We left to help the poor," Will corrected him, arms resting on the table now. "So far we aren't doing a very good job at that. We should get the food, and get out of here. The sooner the better."

"Right then, you go at it. I came here to enjoy myself, have one little pint of ale. Is that so wrong? We deserve a bonus, don't you agree, John?"

Allan had lifted his mug in the air, an offering to a mock toasting, but John said nothing. The man smiled smugly, turning to look back at Will.

"Look my friend, we aren't gettin' out of Nottingham till morning. So you might as well enjoy yourself. When was the last time we were able to sit and have a decent meal, a mug of ale, without worrying about being dragged off to the gallows?"

Will let out a snort, shaking his head. The truth was that they were safer in the forest than they were in here, but he wasn't sure how to even begin pointing that out to the man. Still he knew Allan was right, with nightfall the gates would be closed till the rising of the sun. There would be no way to get back out with the cart safely, and Will wasn't sure if he wanted to risk a daring attempt simply because he was impatient.

Defeated he let out a sigh, wrapping a hand around the mug. They would have to head out in the morning, and in the meantime keep to the shadows, and maintain a low profile. If anyone here had recognized them, they hadn't said anything. Several of the patrons themselves more in likely had caused an upset, or been in trouble only to work their way out again. Will doubted that anyone would call them out simply because of that fact. The Sheriff and Gisborne were not very kind in overlooking even the smallest of flaws.

More content now, Will took a sip of the ale, welcoming the flavorful taste. It had been quite some time since he had last had anything more than water to drink. Though as a group they had tried to keep wine, it was more for emergency rather than general use. It hardly mattered though, because he didn't quite enjoy wine in the first place.

His father had allowed him a few sips in his youth, but as he grew and times became hard, and money grew scarce, such pleasantries were lost to his family. He learned to go without it, and never developed a palate for it. Now Will had consumed more wine living with Robin than he had in his own home.

Allan had already moved on to his second serving, by the time Will was halfway finished with his. Allan's spirits were light and there was a gleeful expression crossing his face as he took part in a single-sided conversation. Next to him, John had finished his own drink as well, welcoming yet another round.

With a quiet word Will warned the both of them to take care, knowing what the drink could do to a person if too much was consumed in one sitting. They still had a mission to complete, and he would need all the help he could get. His words were ignored however, both men content on enjoying the night despite what other work needed to be done.

Will finally finished his own, but waved off any offerings at another round, his attention instead focused on his surroundings, idly listening to the ongoing conversations around them. Now that it was drawing towards the early hours of the morning, the patrons were on the verge of being utterly drunk, shouting off partially-intellectual statements, and rolling with laughter at things that seemed to make no sense.

It took a strong urge to ignore the growing feeling inside of him, for Will doubted that he would ever understand the joys of drinking. Why was it that one felt compelled to indulge themselves to the point they made complete and utter fools of themselves?

Even as the thought crossed his mind he was turning back, meeting Allan's gaze that seemed to match what he had been hearing. Will let out a small sigh, shaking his head. This had been some of the reason he hadn't wanted to come here.

"Allan?"

"Yes luv?" the man replied without missing a beat.

Will exchanged a brief look with John, surprise etched on his face. "What?"

"He's drunk," John answered quietly.

"He can't be drunk," Will shook his head. "He's the only one who knows where the food is."

"Food?" Allan laughed, "Where's the food? I luv food!"

"We go?" John asked, which prompted a nod from Will. Hopefully once they left this place, the night air would do some good, and freshen the man's memory.

"Good food, but whatis better, is some ale," he slurred, holding out his empty cup. He let out a scoff as he was pulled to his feet, John wrapping a hand about him.

Will was already leading the way out, pausing at the entrance to make sure the coast was clear. The streets of Nottingham were quiet, save for the buoyant laughter that came from the tavern behind him. Yet the calm was disrupted as the other two joined him, Allan protesting with each step.

Will was quick to turn and silence him, not wanting to acquire unwanted attention. He moved off the streets, back under the awnings of the houses and buildings, leading the way back to the cart. There were several store bins near where Allan had tied off, and Will was hopeful that one of them would be what they were looking for.

But his hopes fell as he reached the cart, finding more stores there than he had first anticipated. Morning would be a few short hours away, and time was slowly running out. Will cursed his own stupidity at allowing such a divulgence between all of them. It was their first mission, and already he had made errors. He gripped the edge of the cart, trying to sort out the thoughts in his mind, hoping to find anything that might be of use.

"I wasn' finished!"

Will turned as John caught up with him, a firm hand around Allan's. The man was struggling feebly in John's grasp, trying to break free with little success. Will shook his head, watching the pair. "Let him go."

The older man shrugged, doing as instructed, Allan pulling back with a forceful yank that sent him sprawling to the ground below. Amused as he was, Will pushed the thoughts from his mind, kneeling down so that he was eyelevel with the man.

"Where is the food?"

Seemingly content on staying where he had fallen the man only laughed, shaking his head. "That's good. Food sounds good, what shall we have?"

"It's not for us," Will reminded him, his patience drawing thin. "We came here to get the food for the poor. You said you knew where it was."

"What? You dun' have it?"

"Where is it Allan? What one is it?"

The only response was a grin, followed by a laugh. Any further frustrations from Will were cut off, John signaling to him quickly. "Guards!"

Will moved quickly, staying behind the cart as he watched the street carefully. The light from the torches could already be seen and John moved down behind him, watching from over his shoulder.

"Look there," Allan called out, "I think I see sumthin"

"Will you shut him up?" Will whispered at John, glaring at the two. "We'll be found!"

"You want him quiet?" John wondered, earning a nod from him.

Will turned back around, trying to figure out where the guards were, and if their cover had been blown. But his attention was brought back to the pair quickly as the sudden thud could be heard; Allan sprawled out on the ground.

John met his gaze with a satisfied smile, bringing his staff to rest across his knees once more. "There, quiet."

"Not like that!" Will hissed, his gaze switching between John and the now unconscious man. "We still need him!"

"Oh," John paused for a moment, letting out an apologetic shrug. "Sorry."

Will shook his head, crouching lower as the guards passed them by without so much as a second glance their way. He watched until they were gone, turning back to the man without a frown. "Now what are we supposed to do?"

"You said to shut him up, that's what I did," John defended. "He couldn't remember anyway."

"True," Will agreed frustrated, moving to his feet. He had only hoped that the man would eventually remember. Now there was only one thing left to do, and time was not on their side. If anything was to be done, they would have to hurry.

"We start with the first one, and work our way down then. Keep an eye out for more guards, and watch Allan; I'm sure he's not going to feel very well when he wakes up."

* * *

It had taken him some time to convince the others that he was fine. It took more patience on his part than anything else. Robin was beginning to tire of the other's constant hovering, the man having to remind himself that it was just in their nature to worry. True, he still hurt, and he was still tired, but neither of those things mattered at the moment, not when there was work to be done.

Robin led the way, trading quiet talk between the two, keeping the conversation light and easy going. There was a lot to worry about, his mind filled to the brim with bits and pieces of knowledge that only fueled his concern. He had no notion of where Collin's true loyalties were, and still did not know if the man was a real threat or not. The chest of silver had to serve an important purpose if it was being taken to Prince John, but Robin could not fathom to any idea as to why.

For the others, Robin had expected them to return, and still felt in his heart they would in given time, but he still worried for them. Not only that, but Robin could feel the edginess between Much and Djaq as well. They had always been small in numbers, but they had always managed. Things would be harder now, and Robin couldn't help but feel that the pair was starting to question his decisions. That only added more complications and difficulties to the qualms he already bore.

The trek to Locksley was an easy one, but time-consuming. Though he had slept through the night, it had been a result of Djaq's concoction, and the drug-induced sleep was not the same as actual rest. The former Lord of Locksley had found himself moving slowly, and though he stayed ahead of the group he could easily feel the pair slowing the overall pace down to compensate.

Robin wasn't sure whether to thank them, or to chide them. As a leader he hated being portrayed as someone that was weak, and it was one of his greatest downfalls. His men had come to the point of understanding this, and in turn had learned to make do. At the same time Robin knew they had strengths of their own, and hated to see them pretend otherwise for his own sake.

And slowly, but surely, Robin was beginning to feel himself starting to wear down. Life in the forest was not easy, but it would be a far worse crime to live within the corrupted law. It seemed at every turn there were more and more people hurting, and each dreadful crime tore a little more of his heart away. It hurt to witness, and the emotional strength he once had was now a glowing ember in comparison, and it was slowly starving, withering away until one day it would go out all together.

It had been the war in the Holy Lands that had done him in the most. Upon returning, he had been ready to welcome the peace and freedom back into his life. He had been looking forward to putting the blood-ridden years behind him, and to live quietly on his lands till the end of his days if it meant never having to fight again. In turn he was faced with a cruelty beyond that of war.

Still, there were other things that had taken their toll. There were the poor, the innocents who suffered due to one fate or another, and Marian's departure. Gisborne's betrayal only added to the list, and the fact that Robin had no proof of his treason only worsened everything. The King was still fighting off in the Holy Lands and had no true idea of the state England was in, or of the fact that enemies were abounding everywhere. If Gisborne had tried to kill King Richard, then surely there were others as well. He was a fool to think otherwise.

These, all of these were constant worries. They plagued his mind, and at times would refuse him rest or solitude, and they grew stronger everyday. So Robin partook in the blithe conversation, even though it held no answers to his current problems, simply because it offered the one thing he needed most of all: a distraction.

But the warm words and gentle thoughts wore off at the sight of Locksley in the distance, and Robin switched from worrisome to attentiveness in one moment, forgetting everything save for what concerned them now. Without a word he waved the pair to the side, keeping well into the forest but never letting the village out of his sight. He did as they had done so many times before, scouting the village before entering.

It would be a fool's blunder to do so otherwise. Locksley presented more of a danger simply because of Gisborne's presence, but they took the same amount of care with every village, Robin knowing that some of the Lords were not to keen on the outlaw's actions. But his former house sat still and quiet, save for the sole guard that stood at the front, looking half jaded as he stayed in the one single spot.

Robin could remember Gisborne's words to Collin from the night before, and felt a twinge of sorrow, but a quick reminder of what the man had done washed it away only moments after. Much moved down next to him, watching the village below before turning to him, asking the question with his eyes. Robin nodded, using his bow to point out in front of them.

"Careful and quiet; talk to the villagers, see what you can learn about the silver; but do not tell them what we know. We want to keep Gisborne thinking that we will go after the decoy."

"But why?" Much wondered, a frown crossing his face.

"Because," Robin laughed, watching his companion. "Extra guards will be on the decoy to make it seem real, and that means…"

"Less guards on the silver," Djaq finished, nodding. "I understand."

"So do I," Much boasted quietly, "I was just testing the two of you, that's all."

"Half hour," Robin finished quietly, "meet back here, no exceptions."

* * *

It had been a long night, a fact he couldn't deny. There had been eight store rooms in total, and picking the locks had not been too difficult, but they had provided a lapse in much needed time. The first three were empty, waiting perhaps for the summer and autumn inventory to fill it to ensure provisions through the next winter. The fourth was filled with weapons and arms, for what only Will could fathom. It was the fifth that was filled to the brim with food, and he and John went to work quickly without so much of a word.

Twice they had to dodge guards, closing the storeroom doors and holding their breaths as they passed by. But the men of the castle hardly took notice in the cart, and if they knew of the men's presences they didn't obviously care, more concerned on finishing their own rounds than anything else.

Though the store itself would have filled the entire cart, Will relented in taking it all, moving instead to the next several, pulling food and rearranging barrels to keep the space looking occupied as much as he possibly could. They would need to come back this way sooner rather than later, and Will was hopeful no one would notice the missing food if they repacked the leftover crates and barrels well enough.

In between loads the pair took turns on checking on the third member of their group. But Allan slept on, unaware of the world about him. Will's only hope was that he would stay that way long enough to make their departure sound. It was enough, and the pair had finished securing the load from prying eyes as the first peasants began walking the streets of Nottingham in the early light.

Getting out had been easier than expected, Will prepared for some type of fight or other quarrel to rear its ugly head but they were granted passage without so much as a second question. He wouldn't complain, nor would he question, instead sitting next to John as they headed back towards the forest. Making the drops had been harder, however.

They could not leave Allan alone, and so he left John in charge back at the makeshift camp, Will taking the cart out to each of the villages. He was quite surprised to hear that Robin and the others had already come through, wonder where the group had gotten the food. Still, many of the people still accepted the extra food with great thanks. What he was not surprised at was the words that left theirs, each and every peasant sending thanks to Robin himself, as though all of this had been the man's idea. Will tried to remind himself that the only thing that mattered was the fact that they were fed. Who received the thanks was not important.

This had been the routine throughout the morning, until he reached Locksley. The peasants there greeted him with more enthusiasm, claiming to have no food of their own. The concern was alarming, for more than one reason. The knowledge first that there were actually starving people, something he knew would happen soon, but nothing they figured would have happened already. The second worry was the fact that Robin and the others had been to the other villages, why would he forget his own?

But that thought hadn't lasted long, for it soon turned to anger as he found the reasoning behind it. The store at Locksley had been cleaned out, left completely void of any food. According to the villagers there, Gisborne had gone through and demanded all the food they had. Many of the peasants there had not even had a morning meal.

Will knew the responsibility remained with Robin. It was there the man had gotten the food, and he had taken it without any consideration of what would happen to the residents there. Which was strange, considering the man's continuous boast for looking out for the poor. Still, any anger he had held was washed over quickly as he learned of startling new details.

Having finished the rounds he abandoned the cart, sending the horse on his way. The animal would make its route home from wherever Allan took him from, so there was little need to worry. By the time Will returned to camp, John had a fire going, and a meal cooked. Allan himself was still out cold, John having dropped him on a bundle of blankets.

Having a warm meal, and some much needed rest Will felt better. Waking had brought a whole new perspective though. Wrapped in a blanket he sat near the fire, musing over the previous nights escapades. There were mistakes that had been made, and their departure without innocent had been due to good fortune than anything else. They would not be so lucky next time.

There were more concerning matters though. The villagers of Locksley had spoken of a chest, having complained about being under forced house arrest the very next coming day. No one knew much, but between the residents he had learnt enough to know that the silver itself would be in rather large proportions. He was torn between several options, each one of equal importance.

They needed a new store, so they could start holding food rather than relying on the castle to provide. They couldn't always be running off to Nottingham every few days, and surely after the second or third time they passed through the gates they would be recognized, and their plans would be found out. Will knew he could build a store easily within the next few days, and the three of them could get the remaining food out safely enough. That would ensure an entire season's supply for every village.

But building the store would force him to miss out on the shipment of silver. Enough silver that would guarantee payment for taxes for months to come. Will wasn't sure what bothered him more, the knowledge he could not do both, or the fact he was even considering it at all. Robin would surely try for the silver, the man was no fool. That was, if the man even knew about it at all.

Will let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead as he did so. There was no way of knowing if Robin knew of it, and even if the man did there was no telling he would be able to get it either. The donation chest still resided in Nottingham Castle, due to Robin's own error. Will knew that they had to intercept the coming one, even if it meant foregoing the food store for a couple of days.

Letting out a slight growl he shook his head. It was rather unfair, and what bothered him the most was he knew Robin had been right. They couldn't just feed the poor…they had to fight the Sheriff as well.

**TBC**


	10. Decoy

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, glad to know you are still tagging along in this story. I love hearing what you have to say, so drop a comment and review to let me know you are still here, and spur me on to writing yet another chapter!**

**Any questions or comments, please feel free to ask, I will surely answer as best as I can!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Decoy**

He could never remember feeling quite this bad. Back in the day he would divulge in a drink or two, and every once in a while would wake later to find himself a bit on the sore side, and lacking the ability to remember what exactly happened. This was clearly a different case; for starters there was a lot more pain, and try as he might, everything rushed pass him in a blur. Minute pain he was used to…but this…he felt as he had been whopped alongside the head.

Cautiously he opened an eye, sunlight greeting him through the tops of the trees as he stared straight ahead. Light did not help his throbbing head at all, and he let out a groan as he rolled to his side, muttering a few incoherent words.

"Nice of you to join us, Allan."

He glanced up; meeting Will's gaze before letting out a laugh, laying his head back down. Allan couldn't remember anything from the last night save for entering the town of Nottingham, and the tavern…he could always remember the drinking he had done.

"Now that you're awake, you can help us move camp."

Allan let out a groan, shaking his head. There was no physical way he could move at the moment, and honestly he felt more than eager to remain right where he was, even if it wasn't too entirely comfortable.

"Now Allan."

"I'm not being funny, but I can't remember a thing," he managed to croak, draping an arm over his head, shading his eyes from light.

"Not surprising," Will continued, moving about him. "That is the last time we ever go to the tavern."

"Speak for yourself," he muttered dryly.

"You can't tell me you actually enjoyed that?" the man commented, disbelief lacing his voice. "Are you enjoying yourself at the moment?"

Allan laughed, shaking his head. No, he wasn't. "That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

Slowly Allan rolled to his stomach, crossing his arms on the ground in front of him, raising his head. "A man should be able to do what he wants, when he wants."

"Even if it means making a complete fool out of himself?" Will inquired, gathering the extra blankets in his arms.

"Yeah," Allan nodded, frowning for a moment. "No…that's not what I was saying."

Will shook his head, watching him. "What do you mean then? Enlighten us."

"We should be living decent lives," Allan pointed out, "I mean, after all the work we do an' stuff. We should be able to go out, enjoy ourselves, and not have to worry about bein arrested or anything like that."

"We're outlaws," Will reminded him. "We always have to worry about being arrested."

"You've got a point," Allan admitted, laying his head back down. That fact alone presented a slight problem, but he wasn't going to worry about it at the present moment in time. After a decent rest…he would be able to figure it out then.

"Are you just going to stay there all day?"

He let out another groan, cracking open an eye. Why couldn't the man just leave him alone? "I just might; what business is it of yours?"

"We are moving camp; unless you want to stay here, by yourself, I suggest that you get up."

"Movin' camp?" he opened both eyes now, sitting up. "Why are you doin' that for?"

"Because, Allan," Will told him with a sigh, "Gisborne's guards frequently patrol this area. Not to mention we are close to the north road, and if someone happens to spot us, they'll point us out to the Sheriff. We have to move if we don't want to be caught."

"Well, why don't you build another camp then? Or better yet take back the camp from Robin. Senseless to keep moving about."

"We left," Will reminded him, "therefore we do not keep the camp. If you would like a similar camp, I suggest you build it, because I am busy at the moment."

Allan huffed, closing his eyes as he lay back down. It was unbelievable; Will was a smart man, but he consistently battled his conscience over the smallest of things. He himself would have taken the camp if he had been the one to built it…of course Allan hadn't been, so therefore logic spoke clearly to him that it wasn't worth fighting for. He, of course, had learned to ignore his own sense of right and wrong unless it was particularly important. He was what some people would consider low, but even men who were low had standards to maintain.

"We're leaving."

"Lovely," Allan scoffed quietly, "Let me know when you get there."

He waited for the reply, for the comeback, even anticipated being hauled to his feet, but instead all he heard was silence. Warily he opened an eye, surveying his surroundings cautiously, perplexed to find himself completely abandoned. It was a surprise; he hadn't actually expected them to leave him behind. Sitting up he caught sight of the pair as they wove through the trees, Allan letting out a quiet curse as he held his throbbing head.

They would come back for him…they had to, right? He sat there long enough for the world to come into focus clearly, watching as Will and John disappeared from sight. Apparently they were not…

"All right!" he called out forcefully, staggering to his feet. "I'm coming!"

He muttered a few curses to himself, wrapping up in his cloak as he hurried through the woods to make up lost time. The two had slowed their pace after he had called out, allowing him to catch up, before returning to the normal pace. They had done this walk more than once in the previous season, before Will had constructed their new permanent camp. The only difference was that this time, there was silence in the small group.

Travel with everyone, there at least had been a short exchange between them all, not enough to draw unwanted attention, but certainly enough to keep things interesting. Now the air between them was filled with their quiet steps, the snapping of twigs, and the shuffling of earth beneath their feet. It was maddening, yet comforting at the same time because Allan doubted he had the diligence to keep up with a conversation at the moment. He was a talkative person by nature, always yearning for the need to say something, even if it was to hear himself to talk. The only major flaw he had was the fact that half of what came out of his mouth wasn't even true.

The man had reached a point in his life where he wasn't sure what was fact or fiction. He supposed if he sat down, and sorted through every story he had told he could pinpoint what was true or not, but he didn't have the time for that sort of thing. Vague memory remained with him, and as he encountered each new situation, he would pull the fabrication forward, and spin the tale a little differently. Close enough to the first story that the slight anomalies would go unnoticed by the simple minded folk.

But his head was still hurting, prompting him to rub in gingerly. It was the oddest feeling, the slight bump under his fingers, sensitive to the tender touch.

"Did I fall and hit my head or somethin' like that?" he finally asked, the question nagging at his mind. Maybe that was why he couldn't remember…

"Something like that," Will answered, snickering quietly.

"I said sorry," John returned.

"What?" Allan glanced at the larger man, "you knocked me out? Not being funny, but that hurt."

"You nearly blew our cover," Will cut in, stopping as he faced him. "We should have left you there."

Allan rubbed the back of his head, frowning as he moved on by. "A couple of lousy friends I have. A man tries to enjoy a mug of ale, and he gets clobbered for it!"

"You deserved to get clobbered," Will argued briefly, moving to catch up with him. "You said you would help us; instead you were only interested in helping yourself."

"Hey," he shot back, "I said I'd get you in, and I did, didn't I?"

"You said you knew where the food was too. John and I had to find that ourselves, load everything, and get back out, all the while we were babysitting you."

"Not my problem," Allan laughed. It was his opinion that Will was digging far too deep into this. "Don't want my help, don' ask for it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Will replied coldly, taking the lead once more.

Allan let out a sigh, shaking his head as he continued to follow. Robbing the rich, feeding the poor…it all seemed like too much work. And then you had to turn around, and do it again, because they were all hungry again by the time you were finished. It was pointless, and Allan knew with the skills he had, they could serve far better uses than petty thefts, and minor triumphs.

As much as he knew this, he also knew something else. Will was right; he was an outlaw, which meant he had nowhere to go. Sure, he would be able to get by for a short time before someone noticed him, and then he would be forced to move on to something new. But he was beginning to wonder if a life such as that was better than what this bleak existence had to offer.

"How far are we going?" Allan asked quietly.

They had moving for nearly an hour now, steering clear of any roads, and taking the smaller, rougher paths through the trees. At times with Robin, before they had their camp, the man would lead them through a series of twists and turns for several hours, before settling down. Allan could have sworn the crusader had led them in circles, and had often wondered if that had been the point of it all, to confuse them so deeply that not even they knew where they had wound up.

Whatever the case, Will was no Robin Hood, and Allan was growing hungry, and his body still yearned for the proper sleep it had missed out on. The mere prospect of wandering around for several more hours made him want to weep like a babe.

"Not much," Will reassured him, switching the bundle of blankets he carried to his other shoulder. "The top of the hill."

"So are you goin' to build a camp or what?"

"We don't have the materials," Will told him blandly. "Or the time, John and I are going to Nottingham, tomorrow."

"Nottingham? Why?"

"Silver," John replied quietly. "The Sheriff is getting silver."

Silver? Allan laughed, grinning as he followed them up the hill. "You know, I have some ideas…"

"No!"

Allan came to a stop as both of them had cried out, halting their movement.

"No," Will said again, quieter this time. "Thank you, your last plan didn't work our so well."

"Oh come on," Allan protested, "it won' happen again. I mean…any silver is going to be guarded, right? You're going to need more than just the two of you."

"I think we'll manage."

He let out a groan, hurrying up the rest of the hill. Food was one thing…silver, now that was a whole different story. He could a lot with a share of silver…if only he could convince them.

"I'm here, aren't I? I'm still a part of the gang," he shrugged, "Let me help. I made a mistake, alright?"

Will dropped the blankets on the ground, turning to him. "You really want to help?"

"Yeah," Allan nodded with a grin. He had the bait, all he needed to do was reel it in. "I'm still here, right?"

"Good," Will kicked the bundled towards him. "Then you can help set up camp."

* * *

Robin had spent the evening sleeping, and most of the night waiting. He sat alone by the kindling fire, tending it throughout the hours as he kept his mind occupied, divulging in what he and the others had learned. The consignment itself was set to go out in the morning, the decoy leaving Locksley at first light, and would travel through the forest.

Robin fathomed that the chest would make its way for a while before the real silver would appear. If Gisborne anticipated him taking it, than no doubt the man wanted the box intercepted far away from the village as possible. Acquiring the real silver, now that would be another difficulty.

Gisborne would not leave Locksley, and he would be a fool to leave the chest completely unguarded. Between he, Much and Djaq, the weight of the silver alone would present a challenge. They could not carry it, and fight at the same time, and with so few numbers, their defense was nearly nonexistent.

It was another worry in his mind. The smallest of sounds, the slightest movement caught his eyes as night slowly passed by. Each time Robin turned, hoping to see the others, to find Will, John and Allan returning. It had been several days now, and yet he had failed to see even the slightest of signs. It was worrisome, but at the same time, Sherwood was a large forest, and he had taught his men to be invisible. There was no way they would be disordered now simply because they had left. Still, he missed their company, and had felt certain they would have returned by now.

As night slowly began to pass on, Robin doused the flames, waking his companions. He wanted to be in Locksley to see the trap set in place, and prepare for the coming silver. There was still no sound plan in his mind, and he was desperate to see what his opportunities were. They had to intercept the silver…especially after failing to garner the donation chest.

The three had traveled silently through the woods, slowing as the approached their destination, arriving shortly before the first golden rays pierced the sky. They settled down on a small hill that gave them the overlook, just beyond the Locksley household. Robin kept a careful eye on the village, Much fighting off a yawn next to him.

"I don't understand why we are here so early Master," he commented tiredly.

"Patience my friend," Robin replied softly, giving his companion a warm smile. "It will pay off in the end."

"If we can get it," Djaq reminded him. "There are only three of us Robin, and not even you can take on everyone."

"Oh come on," he laughed, "I'm better than them."

"Better, maybe," Much agreed, "but not necessarily smarter."

"Not?" Robin questioned, watching him, "Why would you say that?"

"Robin, the chest," Djaq interrupted, bringing the man's attention back to what was important.

Robin turned, glancing to where she was pointing, smiling as the chest was carried from the house, the load being hoisted between two men. Gisborne was talking to the pair, indicating with a hand for more guards. A total of three. Robin bit his lip, searching the village for more.

"Three guards," Much laughed, watching as the chest moved out, "it is like they want us to take it."

"They do," Robin said quietly, pointing through the trees. "There are more guards about the village. I'm sure there will be more as the chest travels along its journey. Not just a decoy, but a trap as well. Clever."

"Well, it is a good thing we know it is a trap. Gisborne will be surprised, that's for sure, when none of us go after it. He's going to wonder who told you as well. He had enough of the villagers talking about it, I'm sure all of England knows by now."

Robin frowned, listening to his words. Something didn't feel right, and the man didn't know what. He wasn't sure if it was something Much had said, or if the logic had finally reached his mind, but there was a sudden, sickly feeling in the bottom of his stomach. And it was those feelings, he knew, that shouldn't be ignored.

"Stay here," Robin said suddenly, pulling back. "Watch for the silver, see where it goes, but do not intervene. I will meet you back at camp at sundown."

"Where are you going?" Much asked suddenly, confusion and worry written across his face as he pulled back. "What about the mission?"

"We must figure it out later, right now there is something I must do," Robin told him, turning to Djaq to see if he had her compliance. She nodded, already a step ahead of his friend.

Robin returned her nod, tossing Much his sword, but keeping his bow and quiver in case he should need them before parting. He drew his hood up, before he took off running, keeping to the trees and staying light on his feet, following the direction the decoy had taken. He could only hope his instincts were wrong, and he knew if they were not, that he would have to rely on luck, and luck alone.

* * *

He had been tracking the chest nearly the entire day, concealing himself in shadows, watching it from afar. It was slow going, requiring a lot of patience, and Will wondered, curious now, to whether Robin ever became impatient while waiting for so long. Robin did most to all of the scouting in cases such as this; he did the planning, and would call on the rest of them when the timing was right.

Sleep hadn't come easy; anxious about missing the chance to stake claim on the silver, Will had been up early with John and Allan, his stomach too tight to even try and eat. Now he wished that he had, his insides twisting and turning, protesting at the lack of a meal. But it would have to wait, he knew. They were here now, they couldn't afford any distractions.

Quickly Will moved from the awning of the meat stand, slipping into the shadows of an old abandoned stall, watching as the peasants carried the chest further into town. The entire morning now his mind had been working, sorting out a plan, and yet it was as hollow and empty as his stomach. Planning wasn't as easy as Robin made it seem.

He huffed quietly, arms crossed, peering out from underneath his hood. Comparing himself to Robin wasn't fair, nor was it wise. The man had many years of practice under his belt, having fought in the wars. Will was certain that with time, all of this would become easier.

In the forest there had been too many guards to intercept it. Upon reaching the town they had filtered off, leaving the pair to carry the chest alone. Perhaps they were counting on the citizens of Nottingham to shelter it unknowingly. A good plan; any attempt to attack now would only endanger lives. Surely that was what they were counting on.

Will dropped his hands to his side, leaning against the wood, his eyes never leaving the chest as his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his axe. It was slow enough, not to draw attention, but quick enough to enable a firm grip. With a sudden move he pulled it free, swinging it round to dispatch the newcomer quickly. But the blow never landed, a hand wrapping about his own, halting his movement.

The other man watched him amusedly, raising an eyebrow. "You're going to kill someone doing that, you know."

"Robin," Will growled, pulling free from his grasp. "You of all people should know not to sneak up on someone."

"True," the archer grinned, moving around him, his eyes searching their surroundings. "Call it a habit."

"What are you doing here?" Will asked, thrusting the axe back into his belt. He was irritated, but mostly embarrassed at his reaction. If the man had not been so prepared, there was no telling what could have happened.

"I could ask the same for you," Robin replied, gripping the post as he continued to survey the area. Finally satisfied with what he saw he pulled back, facing him. "Shouldn't you be helping the poor or something?"

"We already have," Will informed him, "Locksley is eating, no thanks to you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You stole their food," Will cried, watching him. "Gisborne took what little food the villagers had left. They had nothing."

"They do now," Robin shrugged, "And how do you know that it was I who took the food?"

"Who else would have?"

"Good point," the man nodded towards him, his expression softening. "Does Gisborne know?"

For half a moment Will thought about answering in an affirmative, wanting to blame him for all the troubles caused. It was Robin's fault their food store was robbed in the first place, resorting to more thieving, and the punishment of innocents. Yet he knew he could not, and with a sigh he shook his head, muttering a quiet negative.

"So," Robin let out a sigh. "You had some extra time and decided what…to do a little shopping?"

"Don't play coy with me Robin; you know why I'm here."

The man laughed, folding his arms with a smile. "The silver."

Will nodded, moving around him to track the chest once more. "My men and I have been tracking it all morning; just waiting now for an opportune moment."

"Your men?" Robin scoffed, laughing.

"Yes," Will answered, turning back to face him. "My men. Is there a problem?"

For the briefest moment Will was sure Robin had rolled his eyes, but it was so short he couldn't tell if it was real or imagined.

"Of course not," Robin answered instead, tilting his head to one side. "You have a plan?"

"I'm working on it."

The man nodded, slight amusement crossing his face. "You won't get it."

The negative comment hurt more than he wanted to admit, but Will brushed it off, turning his gaze back out into the market. "I'm sure we will manage."

"If you say so," Robin replied mildly.

"Why are you always like this?" Will pressed, turning back to him quickly. He took a breath, giving himself a moment to keep his voice low. The last threat they needed was attracting the attention of a passing guard. Still it was hard to control his anger. "You always put yourself above others, you think you are the only one that can do something right. But so can we, the rest of us; we are good as well!"

"Yes," Robin answered sternly, his expression changing as he drew in closer. "You are good; but it doesn't matter how good you are, you won't get the silver."

"Give me one good reason," Will challenged him, anger lacing his voice.

"Because the real silver is back in Locksley."

For a moment he almost didn't catch what the other man had said. "What?"

Robin nodded out to the crowds where the chest was being carried. "It is a decoy, a trap."

Will glanced fleetingly out to the market, shaking his head. "I don't believe you. You learn this from your friend? Gisborne's puppet?"

"No," Robin shook his head.

"From who then?" Will challenged, but Robin was already shaking his head.

"Doesn't matter."

"You would take the word of a betrayer over your own eyes? The chest is right there, Robin."

"How many times have you seen two men hoist a chest full of silver so easily?"

Will blinked, his mouth open but failing to produce any words. Quickly he turned, watching as the men wove around the milling crowds, heading towards the castle. They were moving slowly….but carrying the box effortlessly.

"Look up to the castle walls," Robin told him, "What do you see?"

Without thought he did as was told, cursing himself mentally shortly after. Why did he take orders so easily? With a silent sigh he answered, his voice taunt. "Guards, so what? There are always guards up there."

"There are two kinds of guards," Robin continued, moving up next to him. "Ones that are stationed, and ones that are on patrol. They," the man pointed to the corners, where the wall drew into a point, offering a structure to protect from inclement weather, "are stationed. Their job is to watch the outside of the castle, and keep the town protected from external threats. Where are they looking?"

"The market," Will answered quietly, following him now.

"You see the others?" Robin asked, pointing now towards the middle. "They are patrol guards. They have rounds to make within a certain time, and yet they are hardly moving. There are two more, one by the meat stand, one further up by the gate. Both patrol guards, and yet they are moving in only one direction."

"With the chest," Will answered quietly, closing his eyes.

"Always check your surroundings," Robin told him. "Not only for your own sake, but for the safety of the men you are leading. Every decision you make affects them, never forget that."

"Why are you helping me?"

The question was an honest one. Just days ago Robin had forced him from the group with unfair terms, and now here he was, acting as though they were old friends who had fought on the battlefield together.

"Will," Robin laughed, shaking his head. "We had words, but that does not mean I wish you harmed."

He nodded after a moment, letting out a sigh. "If you knew this was a decoy, why are you not in Locksley?"

"Because I knew you would be here."

"How?"

Robin smiled, watching him. "Because I know my men."

Will returned the smile, as weak as it was. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft, "but we are not your men anymore. We left, remember?"

"Come back to camp," Robin returned, his voice just as quiet. "We will put this behind us, and not speak of it again. Then together we can intercept the silver as it leaves Locksley."

It was a generous offer, Will knew. He also knew that it might not come again, and the words ran through his head. Only days into his new life and Allan was already grinding on his nerves with his endless sarcasm, and his greedy ways. John was a comfort, providing the only real sanity he could cling to, but already the moving of the camp had began to wear him down. Then there were other things he missed.

The smell of the camp, the soft beds, the warmth of the night from the close quarters. He missed the warm fresh meals Much prepared, he missed Djaq's gentle interactions, and worse of all he was beginning to miss Robin's leadership. The quiet words the man spoke that seemed to make sense after a short while, the daring, the plans…the friendship.

Yet Will knew that things would be the same. It would be fine at first, but he could already see it in his mind the way things would change. How he would disagree with Robin again and eventually come to an impasse in which he would finally explode. That was not a path he wished to travel down.

Slowly he shook his head. "I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I can't follow your leadership."

Robin was silent for a moment, but then nodded. "An honest answer. That I can take. If you do change your mind, you know where to find us. Now call your men off before it is too late."

Will nodded, hating the fact that the other man was right. He could not risk such a move, and now he was angry at the wasted morning, knowing his time spent added up to virtually nothing.

"Oh," Robin caught his attention one last time, turning to face Will before he left. "You may want to tell Allan to steer clear of the tavern, it is not becoming for him, especially during a mission."

"What?" Will furrowed his brow, but the man did not respond, disappearing almost as quickly as he had come, leaving him to muse over two things. The wondering of how Robin knew such things, and the knowledge that he was going to kill Allan if the man had actually been drinking once more after promising to put an end to it.

**TBC**


	11. In Due Time

**Thanks for all the comments and reviews! I have such faithful readers, it is fun hearing what you have to say. **

**Thanks to Kegel for the beta, any further mistakes that were missed belong to me. **

**Read and enjoy, and don't forget to review! **

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: In Due Time**

Robin had stayed in Nottingham long enough to witness the departure of the three men. He trusted Will's judgment enough, but habits were old and he would not part till he knew of their safety. Once reassured Robin had seen his own way out, disappearing into Sherwood in the opposite direction they had gone. They had been lucky, for there was no telling what would have happened if the trio had indeed gone after the decoy. Worse yet, separate as they were now, Robin could not convince himself that he would have known of their trials if they were captured.

They were all grown men, he knew, and along with that came responsibility for themselves. Robin could no longer dictate them, or guide them through what he felt was best, but the worry grew that if something did happen to any of them, the blame would still lie with him. It had been through his choice that had led them all to become outlaws, and wanted by the Sheriff and Gisborne to the point that torture and death would follow shortly should any of them be caught.

Then again reason was in his mind, for both Will and Allan would have been dead without his actions, the same actions Robin held highly. He would not abandon his decisions, and hard as it was he would have to respect Will's decision. Respect was a funny thing, because though he demanded it unintentionally, it was hard for him to return it just as well.

The feelings eased with his reasoning, and Robin trekked ever onward towards their camp, covering his tracks carefully. Nottingham was the gravest of risks for them all, with so many faces about, it was hard to tell who was a friend and who might be a foe, and who may actually be crazy enough to try and follow them through the forest. Robin would rather prevent a problem before it started, and risk his own well-being to ensure the safety of his men.

Yet it was quiet, as it had been many times before and he pressed on with little care, nearing the camp as the sun was hanging low in the sky. Robin had given himself the full day, not knowing if he could find Will in time, or at all, and wanting the time in case something ill should happen. Even as early as he was, Much and Djaq were waiting, sitting about idly. They greeted his return with enthusiasm, the pair spouting off what they knew, inquiring already to plans and ideas that he might have.

Robin held out his hands, silencing the both of them with a short smile. "One at a time, alright? Where is the silver?"

"Locksley," Djaq answered, "In your house. Two chests, wooden."

"And double the guards," Much added, leaning on his sword. "I hope you have a plan, because we can't fight them all."

"I'm working on it," Robin responded, folding his arms.

"We could always storm Locksley," Much suggested, "You always seem to enjoy the plans that involve certain death."

Robin scoffed, grinning, "Too messy, my friend, and too sudden."

"Funny…you just want the glory," the man protested. "No glory in robbing your own house, is there?"

Robin laughed, clapping the man on the back as he walked by. "We will figure something out; how long do we have?"

"I heard Gisborne say the silver will depart in three days," Djaq answered, following him. "Guards will be there every day, every night, Gisborne as well. There are too many to slip by, Robin. What will we do?"

Robin let out a sigh, sitting at the base of the camp, his elbows resting on his knees. "Any convoy would be well guarded, and they would expect an attack out in the open. At the moment it is out of the public's eye, so they will feel more secure, more secure means less guards, less worry. A perfect time to strike would be dusk, or at first light, when the guards are most likely to be changing rounds."

"Wouldn't that be the worst time?" Much wondered, "Guards going off shift, guards coming on. That's like…twice as many."

"And a guard at the end of his round is going to be tired, and wanting to turn in. Especially after an evening or night shift," Robin explained. "You remember our watches back in Acre; the nights seemed longer simply because nothing was happening. It is no different here. Even more so when they feel there is no threat."

"There are still many guards Robin," Djaq said quietly, watching him. "We cannot take them all. We need the others."

"We don't have the others," he sighed quietly. "We will have to make do."

"We can find them, they would help us," Much offered, but Robin was shaking his head.

He didn't wish to speak of them, knowing the criticism he would get for not bringing them back. Robin had no choice in that matter, but the others wouldn't understand, even more so after the near incident in Nottingham. Much would berate him, Djaq would hold it against him. Robin was no fool, and he knew knowledge that the others didn't have would not harm anyone, and so he chose not to speak of it, directing the conversation away subtly.

"We use the cover of darkness…Djaq, do you think you can make something to give us a distraction? A small fire somewhere…something that will draw attention but not cause much damage?'

"Smoke," she answered quietly. "Gives appearance of a fire, but no flames."

"Good," Robin gave her a nod. "Make it close to the house, but near the front. We will go in through the back, and if there is any luck with us, we will be out that way soon enough as well."

"This has no sense," Much shook his head, "I mean, how do we even know the silver is there for sure? What if it's another trap?"

"To what point or purpose?" Robin questioned him, but faltered as the words reverberated in his head. Slowly he smiled, glancing up at the man.

"You, my friend, are a genius."

"Clearly," Much agreed, smiling at the comment for a brief moment before it faded to a frown. "Why?"

* * *

It was a disheartening find, having returned to the forest empty handed after having spent the entire day on a mission that did not even start to see its way through to the end. Still, things could have been worse, Will knew. But even that small thought did not cheer him. Instead the anger at a full day wasted and his own foolishness and misguidance ate away at him from the inside.

There had been numerous questions from both John and Allan, inquiring to why they were leaving, and how he had known. It had been followed with a brief argument, forcing Will to finally reveal it was Robin who had told him. John said nothing to the matter, the man knowing and understanding that Robin was still watching out for them despite this disagreement that had happened in the days prior. Allan, however, had taken a volatile reaction towards it.

The man had claimed it was a ploy, that Robin was swindling them into believing a falsehood so that the man could take the money for himself. Will would have believed him, too…if Robin was truly like that. As arrogant as Robin had been lately, a stunt such as that was well below the man's moral and the concern that had been in the man's voice was genuine. Thankfully John had agreed, and Allan lost the argument shortly after.

Despite being angry and disappointed, Allan had still followed them back to the woods. It was surprising for Will, who had expected him to go off on his own. Though Allan had returned to the tavern, he had not stolen nor had he divulged in any fresh drinks. It gave Will the slightest bit of hope, knowing that his men were starting to listen to him.

There had never been a clear establishment of who the leader was, but Will had assumed the role without question. But simply stating yourself as the leader wasn't easy, because it required the compliance of the men who resided with you. John hadn't questioned him, but Allan had been a constant threat to his authority. But Will had never asked for him to stay. Why the man continued to do so was beyond Will's comprehension.

They were stuck in a constant quarrel. Allan saw the world different than he did, seeking out a profit or a loss and only seeing those two extremes. Will was more focused on helping everyone, believing in equality amongst the rich and the poor. He had never held to authority very well, believing the rich to be scoundrels who had been granted an easy life from birth without any hard work.

Will had watched his father work hard everyday, had pulled his own fair share of labor in the past years. And for all their hard effort he had watched his mother die, and his father suffer. All the while the nobles supped luxuriously without any thought to those who were truly in need. His past strongly suggested that he should be at a difference with Robin simply because the man was a noble, but Will knew it was his manner, not his stature, that created that difference.

Whether Allan had suffered or not was unknown to Will. The man had gotten through life by riding on one scam to the next, using other's misfortunes for his own advantage. There were many talents he bore, but used unwisely they could be catastrophic. There was an inkling in his mind that Allan would actually leave the forest if given a high enough price. Sometimes it was a wonder if the man even had a conscience.

Will let out a sigh, smiling to himself quietly. He knew the man did, for he had seen the tenderness and compassion in his eyes from one occasion to the next. From the time they had saved the little babe Seth, Gisborne's son, from certain death, and the time Allan had pleaded with Robin to let his brother Tom join in hopes to set the misled man straight. There had been pain in his eyes upon the discovery of Tom's death, and real emotion when he assumed that Marian had died as well.

Yes, Allan was a good man, but it was intermingled with greed and the want for gratitude and payment for the work he had done. That was a trait that would never change, but Will prayed the man would keep it at bay, for everyone's sake if not for his own.

And John…John had been kind and sensitive, quiet but faithful, following wherever he would lead. The man still held the same values that Robin had once taught them. Robin had saved Alice, John's wife, and given her a chance to lead a new life with their son. It was hard for John to see them go, Will knew. He understood what losing a family was like. His own father and brother had set out for Scarborough nearly a year ago.

Yet seeing the compassion Robin had held for the poor, it had been motivating for the older man, who had spent half a lifetime in the trees, stealing and scrounging whatever he could to survive. He had put his motives to better use now, and Will welcomed any help he would give warmly.

"So?"

Will looked up from where he sat, his thoughts drifting away at the sound of the voice. Allan was watching him intently, and Will only shrugged, shaking his head. "What?"

"What's the plan?"

Plan…it caused him to frown. It hadn't crossed his mind to figure out what they would do next, and Will quietly chastised himself. The silver was a loss; there was nothing they could do about that, but they could prepare for what was to come.

"We need to find a place to store our provisions," he answered quietly. "I can build another one easily enough, but we need to find some solid ground, and the face of the cliff. Maybe near the caves."

"I meant about the silver," Allan corrected him.

"There's nothing we can do," Will responded. "The silver is in Locksley, we were tricked."

Allan scoffed quietly, "You know how much that silver will feed the poor? Not just talking days or weeks, my friend, but months."

"You just want the silver for yourself."

"Well, my share yeah," Allan nodded, "Only fair. You want it as well, right?"

Will bit his lip, sighing. It was true, he did want it. He wanted it out of Gisborne's hands, out of the Sheriff's…the money could be useful, it could save lives. The people of England deserved better, but it was too risky. There was no telling in how many guards there would be, or even where the silver would be. Gisborne had gone to great lengths to bait them with a decoy; surely the real chest would be well hidden in the village.

"Come on," Allan rebutted, seeing the look on his face. "We've done stuff like this before, we can do it now."

"We had Robin before," Will reminded him. "And Djaq and Much. There is a difference between three people and six."

"We dun' need Robin. Besides, we will figure out a different plan. We won't need six people, just three. We have to try."

"Allan…" Will let out a breath, trying to find some way to reason with the man. It was madness; even with John's strength, and Allan's trickery, they would not get far. They would need numbers, and that was something they were lacking. He could remember Robin's words, his encouragement to take the chest out together. That surely would mean that Robin would not even try the silver. If their former leader would not try, what motivation was left for them to attempt the same feat in question?

"We try."

Will's gaze was pulled away this time, to where Little John sat, watching the exchange quietly. He gave Will a firm nod, clearing his throat.

"We try; if we can't, we can't, but we must try."

Will swallowed painfully, nodding. The only part that worried him was the simple fact of what would await them if they did try, and fail. The memory of what happened to Robin had not diminished, and though Will had claimed to be ready to take such a punishment, he knew it was more a slur of words than an actual truth. He was not ready for torture, or the prospect of dying. Nor was he willing to sacrifice John or Allan.

"We do this, together," John encouraged him.

"To Locksley?" Will questioned quietly. Both John and Allan nodded, and he felt a little relieved. They would have to try, he knew. Else it would all be in vain. There was hope, if they took it slowly, and learned the truths first rather than rushing in blindly. He would be more aware of his surroundings, and scout the village first before entering; keeping in mind what Robin had taught him earlier.

"To Locksley then."

* * *

The night air wasn't as bad tonight as it had been the last few nights. It was warmer, but even still he could see his breath. His uniform provided moderate warmth, but the open-faced helmet, the thin gloves…these were the areas of weakness. Here the chill pierced deeper, sending shivers up and down his spine. Slowly he passed the bow from one hand to the other, bringing his chilled fingers to his mouth, blowing in an attempt to keep them warm.

"Cold again?"

Collin glanced at his companion, an older man known as Davis. The man had been working for the castle for nearly two decades, having worked closely with Gisborne the last several years. Often he proclaimed that he was a favorite among the man, and boasted about his positioning. Whether it was true or not left speculation to Collin, but he wasn't willing to divulge in a pointless fight. The man was a coward, bending to every wish and order that left Gisborne's lips. It was the very reason he was out here tonight.

For Collin, it was different. Gisborne had seemed to enjoy having him take the night shift, and follow up with a heavy round of morning chores. Rest would not come to him till the mid-afternoon, and he would sleep until shortly before his night duty, taking some supper before the entire process started over once again. As difficult as it was, Collin considered it an alternative to what could have been.

Gisborne's faith in him had strengthened after the consignment had arrived safely. Collin had not learned the chest sent out that morning was a decoy until shortly before nightfall, but he did learn that Robin had not gone after it. Therefore Gisborne had no reason to suspect he was dealing with Robin, and it had been a mere coincidence that he had known where the store had been.

There was still guilt, but Collin wouldn't delve too deeply into it. Robin was a difficult man to figure out, holding an approach between carefree and slightly deadly. The man was an idol, Collin rationalized, knowing that he had spent his younger years living off on the generosity of the Lord of Locksley, and his eagerness was fueled even more when Robin had ventured off to war.

Knowing Robin on a semi-personal level was different than he thought it would be. The man was still very much a child in many ways, jovial and outgoing, but bearing the weight of a troubled individual underneath the surface. And who could blame him? There were many reasons for Robin's changing moods, and it was unnerving in Collin's mind to not know whether the man presented a threat to him or not.

"I hate these long shifts," Davis grumbled quietly next to him. "Freeze out here, everyone else sleeps sound, full stomachs. Sickening…"

Collin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It seemed as though the only way Davis was happy was to be spiteful towards what he didn't have. That was the way he was, the way he had always been, and most likely it was how he always would be.

"At least you are only doing one night," Collin responded quietly.

Davis scoffed, putting out a laugh. "That's right; you're the one causing the trouble with Gisborne. Not happy with you, he is. You're lucky to still have your head attached to the rest of your body."

The threat was light; Davis always embellished, especially when it concerned Gisborne. "It was a misunderstanding, we got it sorted."

"Ready to hang you by your neck, associating with outlaws, Robin Hood none the least. Where do you get off, sorting with folk like that? It been me, you would have been tortured then hanged."

"Pleasant," Collin returned, fighting off a coming yawn. "Good thing I'm not."

"Not what?"

Collin barely blinked, turning to the other man. "Associating with outlaws. You started the conversation; perhaps you should pay attention to it."

"Right," he answered with a huff, "Whatever it is you say, Gisborne knows, and he's right, he is."

"What does Gisborne know?"

Davis laughed, watching him now, his lips drawn tightly over his teeth. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Obviously, reason why I asked."

"Going to know, then tell them outlaws? Spread your knowledge and little wisdom of what you have to a known traitor? Hope that he'll take you in his gang?" Davis laughed vociferously, stabbing the end of his bow into the ground as he was thoroughly amused by his poorly scripted joke.

Yet as suddenly as he had started there came a strange calm over him, the man taking a deep breath. "Not from me, you won't. Nothing you'll hear cross these lips, I won't supply them filthy mongrels my superior knowledge."

Collin only nodded, giving him the benefit of the doubt. Davis would often sprout of conspiracies being planned by the villagers, and would talk to anyone who listened, his mind long done in by the constant drinking of his younger days. Though he had sobered up years ago, it seemed the intoxication still resided with him, earning him the slight of 'Crazy Davie' by the other guards.

The sound first came from their left, near the barn and it was nearly indistinguishable, leaving the source of the commotion to be unknown. Collin was watching carefully, ears straining should the sound be made again, but turned quickly as he was prodded by Davis.

"Go on then, find about it. What are you being paid for?"

Collin scoffed quietly, shaking his head. He wasn't being paid, courtesy of Gisborne. The man felt the need to suspend his pay until he saw fit. It wasn't a harsh blow, Collin was able to keep up well enough with what money he had, and his grandmother still worked unhindered in the castle back in Nottingham. She was his main concern, and as long as the woman was well then so was he.

The truth of the matter still remained. One of them had to check the disturbance, and though the short walk would probably warm him some, Collin did not want to go. More in likely it was just some critter, trying to find some scraps for its aching and empty belly. Shifting the bow between his hands Collin let out a sigh, hiding a slight smile.

"Could I wonder…if it was an outlaw…what sort of bonus Gisborne would give me if I were to catch him? I mean, protecting the silver, bringing a wanted man to justice. That's good enough for a promotion…wouldn't you agree?" Collin wondered, moving towards the barn.

Davis watched him for a moment, fully perplexed, but then the confusion melted away to justification as he pressed ahead of him. "Right, you stay here. This job is for a real man, I'll take care of it."

Collin smiled inwardly as he fell back into place, watching as Davis sauntered off through the dark. Sometimes it was just too easy. He had always been fairly quick with his tongue when giving the time to think. At times it had proven useful, but being for the most part an honest man, keeping up with such trickeries was a daunting task.

He shifted his stance once more, letting out a breath as he listened to the quiet night. There were no sounds from Davis, and Collin wondered how long it would be before his nervous cries filled the air. The man was a coward, and easily intimidated by the smallest of things despite his boastful talk. But seconds stretched into minutes, and there was still no sign of the man.

Collin could feel his own stomach tighten, the breath catching in his chest as he started to move forward, now concerned for Davis despite his growing dislike for the man. But he came to a stop, having taken no more than few steps as the man reappeared, Collin drawing in a much needed breath.

"You were gone for a time; what was it?"

"Nothing too threatening I can reassure you."

At the sound of his voice Collin turned quickly, backing up a step. "Robin!"

The man held up a hand, silencing him quickly as he took up the position Davis held only minutes ago. "Do you really want to draw everyone's attention out here?"

"It would be your own fault," Collin returned, dropping his voice into a whisper. "You would deserve it, too."

"Don't make me hurt you," the other man warned with a quiet laugh.

"Where is Davis? What have you done with him?"

"Don't worry, sleeping like a baby I assure you. So tell me, you fancy the night shift?"

"Not particularly," Collin scoffed, "And I wasn't worried; concerned, because now I'm going to have to explain to Gisborne what happened to his lackey."

Robin laughed, "I have a suggestion for you, if you are willing to listen."

"Does it involve another dagger at my throat?" Collin mocked him quietly.

"Of course not," Robin grinned, turning towards him, "but you tell me you didn't have a choice then…"

"I didn't," Collin corrected him.

"…then I'm giving you a choice now," Robin continued, as though he had never even heard him. "Prove your loyalty to me."

"I don't have to prove my loyalty to anyone."

Robin only shrugged, heading back out into the night. "Very well then."

Collin let out a sigh, biting his lip. Sometimes the man could be so infuriating. "Robin, wait!"

The man stopped, turning with a questioning look on his face. "Yes?"

"What do you want?"

Robin made his way back, stopping so that he was just in front of him. Collin held his breath, now worried that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"There are two chests of silver in there."

"I will not get them for you," Collin said briefly, explaining himself, "It is heavily guarded."

"I know," Robin nodded, "My men and I need to get inside, but we can't with this many guards around."

"What?" Collin laughed, "You want me to get rid of them?"

"I need you to tell Gisborne that I was here tonight. Tell him whatever you would like, that you chased me off, scared me away, whatever it is he wants to hear. Then you tell him that I know about the silver, and my men and I are planning to raid the house within the next night."

"But that's not true," Collin responded quietly, watching him. Why would Robin warn his enemy of a potential attack just moments after the man confessed that he wasn't going to?

"Just trust me, alright? Tell Gisborne you couldn't go after me because you had to stay with the guard. Now, give me five minutes, then go to the barn. You'll find your guard there."

"And what if I decide not to tell Gisborne?"

"Then my men and I will find another way in," Robin replied simply. "The choice is yours my friend, but what will you tell Gisborne about his 'lackey'?"

The last part had been said in jest, but Collin was given little time to think about it as Robin disappeared into the shadows. He glanced about his surroundings, wondering if anyone had just overheard their strange conversation. But the house was quiet, and as the minutes passed by, Collin knew he had to make a choice.

**TBC**


	12. A Plan of Their Own

**Another day another chapter! Thanks to all those who have stuck with me thus far, I appreciate all the comments and support :) **

**Thanks goes out to Kegel, who betaed the chapter for me. **

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**Chapter Twelve: A Plan of Their Own**

There were good times, and then there were bad times. This was not a good time. In fact, this wasn't even a bad time. No, it was far worse than that. A bad time might have seemed good right about now. Truth be it, he had hoped it would be a bad time…

Whether the bluff was real or not, Gisborne could not tell. But he knew what he had to do, and had done exactly what had been expected of him. Knowing what he knew, and reporting it…two different things entirely. Vaysey was a…difficult man, to say the least. He held in his opinion nothing about faith, or loyalty, but power instead. Weakness was not a trait he delved in, nor did he wish to see it in the presence of those who worked for him.

Gisborne knew his greatest weakness has been his heart for Marian, the very woman Vaysey despised most of all. Since her departure though Gisborne had felt Vaysey take a new turn, a sort of new liking for his acclaimed loyal servant as he was. The power and authority the Sheriff had granted him in mock replacement of his runaway bride had patched up a gaping hole inside of him, but the emotional wound was slowly opening once more with each passing day.

Power and control only went so far, and every cold night he spent alone in bed only served as a reminder of the painful humiliation he had endured. She was gone from his life now, and even through weeks of searching, and even pressing Robin, her old flame prior to his departure to the Holy Lands, had failed to create any find. It was all that he was left with now, the Lands of Locksley, the power he held in accordance with the Sheriff…if he lost it due to this…then he would be completely empty.

So he stood there, a quiet façade of appearance, willing himself to remain still as the man watched him. There were many moods of the Sheriff; he could be volatile, outlandish and even uncouth. Then there were the times like now…when he was as silent as a dead man, so quiet that not even his breaths could be heard. One would have to presume him as being dead if it were not for the subtle moves of his fingers, the indiscernible blink of the eyes. These were the times Gisborne hated the most, hated because one had no clear perception of what the man was about to do.

"How…did Hood, find out?"

Gisborne let out a sigh, turning away as he bit his bottom lip. That was what bothered him the most. He had no answer as to why. "Perhaps he found out the last shipment was a decoy."

"A clue?" Vaysey scoffed, "No. Hood did not go after the decoy, so he knew it was a trap. Where was he when this was happening? In Locksley, no doubt. But HOW, did he find out?"

Gisborne shook his head.

"Who did you tell?"

"No one knew save for me and my guard, Davis. The man was with me, he could not have told anyone."

"Well, we won't know for sure…unless we tie up loose ends."

"Davis is my man," Gisborne spoke up quickly. He knew how the Sheriff felt about securing their workers, about keeping the reigns tight, but the guard, as dim-witted as he was, had been a valuable assist. There were very few men willing to partake in many of the unfavorable deeds without question. Davis was one of those few men.

"Was Gisborne, was. Men who are with Hood, are not men who are with us."

"He didn't tell Hood," Gisborne responded, trying to convince him. "I can attest to that."

"What about that other one then? Hmm?" Vaysey questioned, leaning back in his chair. "Collin was his name, I think it was?"

"He did not know about the silver until after it arrived. There was no possible way he could have warned Hood about the trap. The trick was old, My Lord; surely Hood saw through it."

"The trap, yes," Vaysey nodded in agreement, "But he knows about the silver. Prince John is expecting it to arrive safely. That is why I had it sent to Locksley. A price like that would not go unnoticed through Nottingham."

Gisborne nodded quietly, saying nothing. Sometimes it was wiser to stay silent, a trade he had learned years ago. The man had a fury that could unleash when you least expected it, and more than once had he paid the price for the Sheriff's vehemence. The cost at which power came was at times a deadly one.

"So tell me, what are you going to do?"

Gisborne let out a sigh, facing him. "Hood cannot get the silver inside of Locksley; the house is too well guarded. He may be counting on the fact that I will move the chests, and strike then. If we stake more guards on full shifts, the shipment will be guarded until Prince John's men show. Hood will not dare attack a Royal Embassy."

"Good plan," Vaysey grinned, but the smile faded quickly. "A clue? No! Here is what you will do. You will find out how Hood learned of the silver, and then kill whomever you must to rid of these…dirty ties. Make it painful…and public. Make everyone know that those who associate with outlaws will be punished as one."

"You know what he threatened," Gisborne pointed out, "That he would kill if we harmed innocents."

"Robin Hood…does not have the strength to kill. He's soft…are you growing soft too, Gizzie?"

For once Gisborne couldn't blame the Sheriff. The man had never seen the outlaw fight in war before, and had no real perception of what Robin would and would not do. More than once had Gisborne felt the bite of a blade of a cold sword against his throat from the crusader, and more than once would it have struck true if it had not been for the men that followed him. Robin could kill…would kill, if it meant protecting innocents, and that was a price Gisborne wasn't willing to pay.

The Sheriff enjoyed dipping into unpleasantries such as torture, and public executions. The things that made Gisborne's stomach twist and turn even if it was slight. He would never admit it openly, for fear of following the same path as the ill-fated before him. Toughen up…move on…get over it; words that had always been spoken through all his years of growing. They were finally starting to sink in, and he was becoming everything everyone else wanted him to be. Save for Marian.

He cast the thought aside, for fear of breaking down. He would not allow himself to think such things. The woman was as dead to him as his own father, a man he both loved and hated to the point it made him ill to even think of the former Gisborne. Now he was close to where he had always wanted to be, the power so strong he could almost taste it, and he would not back down now.

"Hood wants the silver, we will give him the silver."

The comment caused him to frown, Gisborne being pulled out of his thoughts. "My Lord?"

"Details Gisborne, details," Vaysey answered with a smile, fingers tapping lightly against one another as his grin widened. "Only details…"

* * *

After much indecision Robin had taken a perch in a tall tree that overlooked Locksley. He needed the vantage point that allowed him a complete view without any rough interference, and though he was no artist when it came to climbing he had managed well enough.

Down below him, somewhere in the forest, Djaq and Much waited for him. In the dark of the night it had been difficult to see, but Robin's eyes never left the lay of the land before him. There had been a muffled commotion; the words gone unheard simply due to the distance but Robin could reckon that Collin had sprung the trap.

Relieved he bit his lip, easing into a more secure position among the branches. There was slight optimism building in him; he wanted to trust Collin. Wanted it more than anything, for the sole reason of wanting to trust, and wanting to have faith. In the darkest of nights, the words spoken between them as the man had granted him his freedom, surely it could not all be destroyed simply by one action.

Betrayal was painful, however, and Robin knew it was folly to raise one's hopes with the absence of proof. If Collin had indeed set the trap, there would be no way of determining if it was done to help him, or if Collin was simply trying to save his own skin once more. Whatever the case, it mattered little, Robin needed only for Gisborne to be so foolish to fall into the planted snare.

For some time he sat there, watching, waiting, until a smile crossed his lips at the sight he now saw. The night was chased away by the numerous torches, Gisborne's men assisting him as he mounted on a russet steed. The man was quite kempt, though his tidy appearance fell short at his hastened yells, and imperative orders. More men mounted steeds behind him, and within a moment, as a cluster, they spurred off into the darkness.

Gleefully Robin ran his tongue along his lips, laughing quietly as he looped the rope around the branch, securing it before lowering himself down. Once on solid ground, a well aimed arrow pierced the knot high above, freeing the rope from its confines. Out in the forest they could not afford to waste what precious materials they had. Though the arrow severed and frayed the one end, Robin knew the threads could be cut off, and rebound with a mixture of heat and liquid to strengthen it once more.

He was winding it about his arm and shoulder when the others met up with him, both answering the unasked question, confirming that they were alone. Robin nodded, motioning towards the forest as he finished, trailing behind them.

"We should move now, Gisborne is gone and so is half his lot."

"Still too many," Djaq argued with Much, turning towards Robin. "What will we do?"

Robin met her gaze, his emotions held at bay. He had not told them of his earlier plans, only asked that they trusted him. Such was the case in many instances. If things went ill then he did not wish for his men to be caught up in the disaster he had created. Instead he said nothing, taking the lead now as they worked their way further into the woods.

"I still do not understand," Much added, "Gisborne is gone, yet we walk away. When are we going to strike?"

"Gisborne is no fool," Robin explained, "the guards will be alert more than ever now. We must wait."

"For what? I mean, Gisborne isn't going to just hand over the silver, tell us to spend it wisely, now is he?"

"He will go to greater lengths to protect it," Djaq interjected.

"It will not leave Locksley," Robin continued after a brief moment. "If I know Gisborne and the Sheriff as well as I think I do, they will try and bait us."

"What good will a trap do us?"

"We only need for their attention to be drawn. We move when they are distracted, when their focus is on another. When the moment is right."

"When is that?" Much came to a stop, turning round to face him. "How can we know if we are not there?"

"We will know," Robin smiled at him. "Trust me. Gisborne will make sure we know, just as he wanted us to know about the decoy. Right now we head back to camp; we collect provisions, and meet back here. I have a feeling that tomorrow will be an interesting day."

* * *

By now, he had fallen easily into the role. It was surprising, because truthfully he had felt it would have taken more time. He was not much of an instigator, instead a quiet and unspoken individual, though his tongue could say his fair share of words when he so chose to do. So moving here, trekking now with such ease, all in all both astounded and enlightened him.

They had slept well the night before, quiet spurts of conversation floating between the three of them. Will had settled differences with Allan, and the man had backed off on his criticism. John had also encouraged his dealings, claiming that something had to be done.

It was a scary, yet comforting feeling. Will had no real notion of what emotions Robin experienced, but he had gotten a brief insight the night before. The dedication, the determination…of knowing there were people behind you that would support you, encourage you. It was almost overwhelming.

Yet along with that feeling came another one; a twinge of guilt. He and the others had abandoned Robin, due to whatever cause, and Will could only fathom to what that felt like. Still the man had watched out for them, had even probably saved their lives. It was an interesting concept in his mind, for Will wasn't quite sure what to make out of it. If Allan, or John, abandoned him…

But it wasn't the same, not even close to it. The three of them had followed Robin loyally for over a year now. Here it had been only a week's time, if that, the days and nights having been lost in the span of time as a whole. They did not carry the same bond as before, not at the current moment.

His gaze changed, flicking up to catch John's as the man moved in near him, staff in his hands. Allan was ahead of them now, keeping low among the brush and foliage as he found a secure place up ahead. Pausing, the man scouted the area, waving them when he was sure all was clear. Will pushed John ahead, hanging back for a moment before following as well.

They were close to Locksley now, the houses rising up before them as the sun peered down on their forms. Will moved to his feet, keeping on his haunches as he peered over the tall weeds. The village was in a bustle, going about daily life, skirting away from the largest of houses that was still enclosed with guards that were milling about.

He did a mental count, his eyes searching both the perimeter as well as the exposed sections of the house. With a sigh he bit his lip, drawing back to a sitting position. "At least a dozen. There are more than I thought."

"That might present a problem," Allan remarked softly.

"Might." Will rolled his eyes, turning to John, hoping to find an answer there.

"Find a way in," the older man suggested. "We draw them out."

"Even if he does get a way in, he can't carry it all out himself."

Will nodded, knowing that Allan was right. It would take several trips in the least, not to mention the potential, no…the obvious fighting that would happen. He could feel his stomach tighten as he glanced back over the weeds. He was beginning to feel that this was a very bad idea.

They didn't have the man power for this, even if they happened to still be with Robin…this was no small feat, and trying to penetrate such a force would be suicidal at best. They would have to wait, have to think, and return once they had it all sorted out.

"Back to the forest," he told him quietly, moving to leave. He was stopped, however, as John placed a hand on his shoulder, pointing with his staff.

He followed the man's gaze, moving back to his feet, keeping low as he had done so before. There was a commotion, a stampeding of horses as they came racing through the village, peasants scrambling out of the way as the men riding them hardly slowed. Gisborne was at the lead, reigning in his horse to an abrupt halt in front of the abode, the creature stumbling under the swift change in direction.

He wasted little time in dismounting, voicing orders for several of the guards to follow him, storming into the house. There were no misgivings in assuming the man was angry. Will cared little for the man who always seemed a touch on the malicious side, but even now his general demeanor seemed to be calmed compared to his current state.

"What's gotten him so worked up, I wonder," Allan chuckled quietly. "We can take bets on this."

Will frowned, glancing at him for a mere moment before turning his attention back front. The question was a valid one, and honestly it worried him. Though they ran in different circles Will had come to learn what was bad for your enemy could be even worse for you if you were not careful. Sometimes it could be good, he knew that as well, but inane hopes were impractical when you needed a clear mind about you.

And so they stayed, waiting quietly, Will watching, hoping for the best, but keeping an open path to the forest should they have to retreat rather suddenly. John waited quietly next to him, while Allan whispered quiet jeers until Will finally had to shush him. Then there was more movement, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting.

Gisborne was in the lead again, sauntering out quickly and coming to a stop as he turned back with a slight scowl on his face. Several coarse expressions crossed his lips, cursing out in the air as the men behind him fumbled with a large wooded chest, shuffling the load between the four of them.

"That has to be it there," Will spoke quietly, watching them move. "Why are they moving it?"

John nudged him from behind, pointing over his shoulder and Will turned just in time to see another group of men hauling a second chest out. Allan let out a low whistle next to him, rubbing his hands gleefully.

"That's what I'm talking about," the man laughed quietly.

It was a lot; more than a lot, almost too much. If it took four men to haul a single chest, there was no way they would get one or even both. Not even with John's sheer strength, the bulkiness of it alone would present a rather outstanding problem.

Yet he was intrigued now, watching as Gisborne made his way through the village, the peasants keeping well clear of him, even more so than they had with the horses, wanting nothing to do with the proceedings currently taking place. Will met John's and Allan's gaze, nodding towards them as he took the lead, skirting around the perimeter of the village, keeping the two boxes in sight.

John had gone the opposite way, keeping parallel on the other side while Allan followed closely on his heels. Will moved between the houses, continuing low along the fences, taking care to not be seen. Slowly, the route changed, Gisborne coming to a stop in front of the old mill. Will rounded the last fence, crouching behind the decaying wood as he watched.

The man that had previously followed Gisborne had taken the lead, using an axe to knock aside the planks that covered the door. The old mill had been around for years, having scheduled to be demolished years before Robin even returned. Times had changed quickly then, and the mill itself had been forgotten. Slowly the debris was cleared away, the door kicked open, and the men carrying the chests worked their way inside.

It didn't make sense as to why; surely the silver was much safer in the house, for the old mill was wearing down, and far from Gisborne's current residence. Sherwood nearly met the back of it, and last time Will had seen that the forest had even began to overgrow into the mill, a tree having even braced against it during one of the winter storms years ago.

Then again…the trap that Gisborne had set had not worked; maybe now the man feared they would try and steal the silver, and was hiding it out in the open. Will smiled as he watched the door close, the same man who opened it working to board it up once more. Of course, it made sense. If Robin did try and come around he would surely head for his own house, not the forgotten mill in the back of the village that was drenched in moss and covered in limbs.

But now that they knew where it was, a plan was formulating in his mind, growing stronger, and Will chuckled to himself, his confidence returning. Maybe there was a way to get the silver after all.

**TBC**


	13. A Question of Trust

**Thanks to Kegel for the beta, and thanks to all who reviewed! Onto the next part :)**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: A Question of Trust**

He had been watching them, waiting, and praying. His eyes never left the village, his mind drifting here and there as they waited. Morning stretched into noon, noon into afternoon, and the people below went on about their lives, unaware of what was transpiring in the woods behind them. Robin let out a sigh, shifting on the ground, willing himself to stay patient. Gisborne would return…he had to.

"I still don't understand," Much voiced, watching him. "I can't believe you told him our plans. When did we start helping Gisborne and the Sheriff?"

"We are helping ourselves, my friend," Robin corrected him, moving his bow in front of him. Carefully he leaned back against the tree behind him. "We want for Gisborne to think we will go after the silver, it is all part of the plan."

"I thought we were going after the silver."

"We are," Robin nodded, smiling at him, seeing his confusion. He let out a breath, shaking his head as he tried to find a way to explain.

"Gisborne knows the silver is safer in Locksley, he will not move it. But he knows he cannot just leave it for us to try and gather. He will try and fool us."

"When he's distracted," Djaq spoke quietly, drawing both of their attention. "That is when we will go."

Robin nodded, smiling at her. "Gisborne will need as many guards with him as possible, whatever they plan to do, he has to make it seem real. The silver will be left unguarded."

"Well," Much turned to him, frowning skeptically. "Here's your chance to prove yourself. Gisborne's coming now."

Robin turned his gaze back to the village, watching as Gisborne rode up with several men. The man himself was in the lead, his stance rigid and erratic as he dismounted, trudging into the house in a hurried motion. Robin held his breath, moving to his feet as he took a few steps closer, crouching near a tree.

"How many did you count?"

"Dozen," Much answered him, his voice low in comparison. "Plus the four that have returned. It's not going to work."

"It will," Robin returned, his eyes trained on the house below. It had to…

They waited, their breaths filling the air as more time passed. The guards stood about idly, the peasants casting one or two worried and curious glances towards the silent commotion, but continued to go about their way. Robin bit his bottom lip, drawing in another breath, holding it, listening to his heart hammer inside his chest. His eyes flicked from the door to the fence where more guards stood, and then back to the cart near the side of the house. The same cart he had left there the night before.

That had been risky, but Robin had taken the time to hide it well, brambles and branches covering it, to ensure its stay there through the night. If Gisborne had found it, surely the man would have questioned it, but distracted by the events of earlier, the man had more than enough to occupy his small mind.

"He's not coming out," Much chided him.

"He will."

Robin was starting to lose his patience. He had been so certain that this would work. Had felt it with his heart and mind. He knew Gisborne well enough, knew that man would take a chance in catching him again…but the man knew him, too. That was the worst of it. For every move that Robin could guess he would make, Gisborne could guess his own. Perhaps that was what happened here, and perhaps Robin had now ruined the chance to garner the money.

But even as the thoughts crossed his mind they were banished as Gisborne reemerged, pausing to wait out in the open. Robin moved even closer, as much as he dared, urging the man on with silent encouragement. He smiled, watching as they went.

"Well, there goes our chance of getting anything," Much commented dismally, crouching near him.

Robin grinned at him, his gaze flicking between the man and the village. "Let's move, I fear we won't have much time."

"We are going to attack all of them?" Much wondered, jutting a thumb towards the chests that were being carried through the village.

"That is not the silver," Robin laughed, grabbing the pile of bags from the forest floor.

"How do you know?"

"Because, I know," he responded without looking back. They had only one shot at this, and he wasn't going to spend his time arguing. He swung the bags over his shoulder, running swiftly yet silently, letting his feet fall over the ground with gentle yet determined motions, distributing his weight evenly.

He slowed as he approached, weaving in and out of the last line of trees, pausing as he watched the procession continue. Much and Djaq slowed to a stop as well, watching from over his shoulder. Robin waited only a moment longer, turning to the two of them.

"Quick, silent, and effective. There will be at least half a dozen guards left still in the house, and we need to silence them as quickly as possible."

He knew this was going to be the hardest part. They could not afford a breach in their security, could not afford to battle against even greater odds. They needed all the time they could get, and then even more. Robin waited till the others nodded, then led the way, sword drawn and ready as they wrapped around the back of the house.

Two guards; but both were taken down before they even registered what was happening. That left at least four…possibly more, depending on how accurate their count had been to start out with. The door swung open easily; his servants used this door often, and rarely was it ever blocked.

Here he came to a pause, waiting till Much and Djaq moved the unconscious forms to the shelter of the woods. If they were to wake, or someone was to find them, the assumption would be that they had been off on a break when something had gone wrong. It was a notion Robin wanted to keep in order to help secure their plan. Hurriedly he waved as the pair returned, waiting till his other two comrades moved through the door, taking up the tail of the group.

Another pair of guards…Robin barely caught glimpses of them as Djaq took one out from behind, Much sidestepping another before delivering his own blow. Robin jumped easily over their fallen forms, taking the lead again into the main room. It was empty, of both guards and money, the trio coming to a halt, their eyes casting about their surroundings.

"I told you nothing was here," Much hissed at him, but Robin only met his remark with a grin for he knew what his former manservant did not.

Robin motioned for Djaq to guard the door, seeing the pair of Gisborne's men standing just outside. They had not yet seen the intruders, and he desperately wanted to keep it that way. Robin had expected Gisborne to use the chests; after all the trio had seen them come in earlier, they would be fooled by none the less. That was why it had taken them so long to carry the chests out. Because they had been emptied.

Robin waved Much over, handing him his supplies as he dropped to his knees, pulling out his dagger and forcing it in between the floorboards. Carefully he worked it between the cracks, tilting the knife so that one end of the board slid free. He was quick in grabbing it, pulling it out from the rest of the flooring.

"You knew this was here? A secret compartment?" Much asked incredulously, watching him. "All this time? And you never told me?"

"That's the point of it being secret," Robin answered him, reaching in to pull out one of the bags of silver. "Thornton was the only other one who knew aside from my parents. Surely Gisborne forced him to tell. Bag."

He held out his open hand, as Much worked one of the bags free. Robin was quick in transferring the silver, refilling the previous bags with a mixture of rocks, dirt, and other debris that could be found, tying it off in the same fashion Gisborne had. Dropping it back down, he slid the board back into place, forcing it back down before moving to the next hold. There were five in all, and Robin was certain that the man had utilized them all.

Slowly but surely he worked from one hold to the next, moving quickly, but taking as much time as he dared to make the transition complete. He wanted as much time between their departure, and Gisborne's discovery of the theft as possible. As he worked, he handed the bags to Much, having the man move them outside, hiding them in the brush. They would have to load the cart, borrow a horse, and flee to the refuge of the woods in a matter of moments.

"He's returning," Djaq called quickly, keeping her voice down. Robin let out a groan, glancing up at her, then back down to his task at hand. The blade of the dagger was back in the floor, slowly raising one of the boards, but it was stuck.

"Robin…" she warned.

"Almost there," he breathed, pushing on the handle roughly. They were so close…

"Master," Much came up near him, gripping him by his shoulder. "Leave it, we got the rest."

"I have it," Robin shook him off, prying the board up quickly. "Go, go load the cart, I'll be behind you."

His hands shot into the darkness, gripping the velvet bag tightly, pulling it free from its hiding place. Much and Djaq still had not moved, and he turned to them, even as he dumped the last of the silver into the bag. "Go!"

Much nodded, a cross of exasperation and worry on his face. Robin knew the man did not like leaving him behind, but if they were to get out of here, they had to hurry, and now. Hastily Robin filled the bag, hastily retying it even as he dropped it back down. Hands gripped the loose board, sliding it back into place as Gisborne's voice reached his ears. The man was nearly here, and things would turn ugly very soon if he wasn't careful.

With a last forceful shove, the board slid back into place, as though it had never been touched and Robin grasped the handle of his dagger, moving to his feet quickly. He slipped through the open archway, disappearing around the corner as the door opened. He moved slowly now, keeping quiet as he headed for the back entrance. Lush, cool air greeted him, and Robin wasted no moment to savor it as he moved outside.

Much was loading the last of the bags, Djaq trying to calm a nerved horse at the same time. Robin dropped the last bag he was carrying on the cart, moving around Much quickly as he reached up to the frightened creature, helping Djaq in her futile attempt. With his help she was able to bind the rest of the straps about the alarmed animal, Robin mounting barebacked, urging the mare onwards, circling around to face the forest.

The house behind them was silent, and Robin kept the pace slow, whispering quiet words to keep the nervous horse at bay as Djaq and Much climbed the cart, keeping low as the trees began to surround them. So far, so good, but Robin would only be thankful when they were safely in the woods.

* * *

The first problem had been the issue of actually transporting the silver. Will had countered that with the simple answer of retrieving the cart they had used earlier. Allan had taken the task upon himself to fetch another horse, gloating about his intellect and quick hands as he came back riding in. They had ridden in as normal peasants, shrouded in cloaks as the sun began to set over Locksley.

The back of the cart had been filled with bundles of hay, borrowed from another village. Borrowed because Allan proclaimed they had stolen it, whereas Will had the notion to return it once this mission was over. The fact it had been taken without the farmer's knowledge or approval was only a minor detail.

Taking care not to be seen Will had led them in through the back of the village, halting the horse near the fence line of his old house. It too was now empty, and he looked upon it dispiritedly, memories of his father and brother fleeting through his mind. He missed them, and the brief thoughts of what they were doing now entered his mind. But he was quick in banishing them, scolding himself. They had things to do, he had to remain focused.

They took shelter near his house. Will had half the mind to go inside, but he knew they would be seen then. The house had been quiet for so long that any activity inside would alert Gisborne, and draw unwanted attention. And so they waited, the sun disappearing behind the trees, and the warm light of the day melting into darkness. That was what they needed; Will was counting on the cover of night to aid them.

Even still he held off, ignoring Allan's quirky questions, and heavy impatient sighs. It wasn't until the village was completely silent that Will felt comfortable in moving out. He drove the cart slowly, squinting through the darkness to see. Though light would have given them great aid, Will had refused to bring any. This alone was still tricky, as in the back of his mind he was certain that Gisborne would still be watching. The less attention drawn, the better their chances.

John took the lead as they reached the old mill, prying the boards loose with apparent ease. His sheer strength alone had proved useful in many situations, and now Will was silently grateful the man had come along. One by one the planks were pulled free, falling into a pile at the side of house. Slowly Will eased the animal to a halt, sliding off the cart as John kicked the door open.

He was in first, followed by Allan as Will paused, glancing over his shoulder to assure himself that no one had heard. Then he stepped inside; the heavy odor of dust and mold greeted him, causing him to wrinkle his nose in distaste. Ahead of him he heard Allan sigh.

"Nothing's here."

"Try upstairs," Will answered, pushing past him. "They wouldn't leave them right next to the door."

It made sense in his mind; more sense than trying to haul two heavy chests up a flight of stairs. At least he hoped so. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he reached the top, moving to the side as Allan and John pressed by. The pale light of the moon shone through the slits in the window, heavy boards having been nailed across them as well.

Furniture still remained in here, broken and forgotten, the tapestries that hung over the window coated in a heavy layer of dust. Cautiously Will reached out, running a finger along it, nearly choking as an entire cloud billowed from the small movement. The floor underneath his feet creaked with every step, and Will shuddered slightly. This building was a death trap. The sooner they got out of here, the better.

Ahead he could hear Allan's gleeful laugh, watching as the man dropped to his knees in front of one of the chests. "We did it!"

"Quiet," Will hissed, moving through the doorframe into the new room. They still had to get the chest out, and then come back in for the second one. He huffed impatiently as Allan threw the lid open, reaching inside to grasp the treasures. "We don't have time for this!"

"Not being funny, but this isn't silver," Allan responded, hardly listening to him. His hands brought out a rock, and then another one.

Will stared at him, as though he had been the one to cause the misfortune, but inside his mind was racing, trying to piece together what had just happened. It didn't make any sense, why go through all this trouble…unless…

Will jumped, along with the others, as the door below slammed closed, the vibration echoing throughout the house. Quickly Will moved to the window, his gaze falling upon the ring of guards that encircled the house, the light from their torches casting away the darkness. Gisborne's voice echoed through the air, demanding their surrender.

"A trap," John huffed angrily.

"I knew we shouldn't have done this," Allan replied bitterly, moving to the window to glance outside as well.

"It was your idea!" Will hissed, reminding him. "I hadn't wanted to do this in the first place, but you said we could handle it!"

"Since when did you start listening to me?"

Will shook his head, disbelief coursing through him. He had no response for that, nothing to argue with, but thankfully he didn't need any, John breaking through to the both of them.

"What do we do?"

"_Always check your surroundings, not only for your own sake, but for the safety of the men you are leading. Every decision you make affects them, never forget that."_

But he had…the one thing Robin had told him, the one thing he knew he should have done. Will closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. Every window was boarded up, and by the time John pried any of them free they would more in likely be shot. From what he saw, every guard was equipped with a bow, arrows fitted and drawn tight, ready to fire should an escape attempt to be made.

"Will?"

He met Allan's gaze with a frown, shaking his head sadly. He had no ideas, his mind searching through his memories quickly and haphazardly. This was what Robin was good at, these were the times that Robin would be able to come up with his greatest of plans. Will could think, too…but not as quickly, not as efficiently.

For a moment he considered bargaining himself, but the thought died shortly after. He was no Robin Hood, his head was not as desirable as the troublesome outlaw, and Gisborne would not be willing to let two outlaws go when he already had all three of them.

That left only one option; they would have to charge, would have to fight, and pray that somehow…somehow they made it out alright.

* * *

The Sheriff's plan had been meticulous yet simple. If Robin knew the silver was at Locksley then he had seen the chests come in. The wooden boxes were finely decorated, and no look-a-likes would pass the test to fool the man. Yet there was no way in seeing inside the box, and so it would be the box that the man would so foolishly follow. Gisborne had been skeptical; something in the back of his mind screamed it wasn't right, but he wouldn't openly argue with the Sheriff, not after all that had happened.

So he had returned to Locksley, following the man's orders. He had taken the time, outside of the guard's view, to pack the silver in bags, and hide them in the flooring. The chests were then filled with rocks, and closed before he summoned his guards. It had to be that way; his men had to assume that the silver was actually inside. With the weight, they most likely believed it as well.

Gisborne had waited outside while the chests were loaded in the house. He hated places that were old, unkempt, and ready to fall apart. There was no way he was going to risk his neck in there. They had taken their sweet time, his patience growing thin as the last of the boards were secured once more.

Trap set, he had returned to his house, watching and waiting, his guards on constant patrol. He had returned to find several of his guards missing, the result causing the man to scowl. Half his guards were worthless, and seemed to only cause more problems. Why was it that they were always wandering off? He would have to think of it later, he knew, his concentration focused instead on the mill. It seemed like forever, but finally patience paid off as he could finally see movement in the back of the village.

Gisborne had seen them wander through the darkness, move to the house. That was when he first signaled his men. He wanted to give them enough time to get inside, but he knew if he wasn't quick enough, Robin and his men would slip out and escape, once again. Hood would not escape…not again. Gisborne was tired of playing these silly games; he would win once and for all.

And now the arrogance was rightly seen, the spiteful grin on his face as he slammed the door shut, ordering his men to fire at will should any of the outlaws be seen. Smugly he called out for their surrender, knowing already that it would not come. Yet that was fine by him; Gisborne did not wish to take them back to Nottingham, did not wish to wait for a hanging. That only gave them more time to escape; he wanted it to end, here and now.

Hastily he grabbed the torch from the nearest guard, ordering the man to use the dry hay to stuff into the cracks and crevices of the old wood, smiling as the man did so. The house would burn easily enough, but the dried grass would serve as a wonderful accelerant, speeding up the process entirely.

The flame danced at the end of the torch, licking the darkness in a carefree manner. So small, yet so deadly…Gisborne smiled to himself, turning to glance at the man next to him, the guard watching the entire event unfold with mild apprehension.

He could remember the Sheriff's words from earlier, remember the Sheriff wanting him to rid of the loose ends. There would be no hard feelings if he was to kill the man, Collin, as he had been little use, but he rather disliked the thought of bloodshed, most certainly at his own hands. At the thought his smile widened, the prospect seeming all to clear now.

Without a word he passed the torch to the guard, Collin taking it without hesitation, not even meeting his gaze. "Torch it."

That got his attention; the youth turning to him suddenly. "Sir?"

"Burn it down," Gisborne repeated, anger rising in his voice. It was amazing how often he had to repeat himself. His guards were useless nitwits.

"I do not deal in murder."

"But you do follow orders," Gisborne reminded him. This was a test, plain and simple, one last chance for the man to redeem himself, to prove his loyalty and show who he stood with.

"Burn it, or lose your life."

**TBC**


	14. Fading Time

**Many thanks to Kegel for not only betaing the chapter but helping with a tricky storyline in several areas.** **This chapter is for her! :D**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Fading Time**

He could feel the chill of the night slowly creeping through his body, but it was different than what he expected. Almost a numbing sensation, starting from inside his chest, spreading out to his limbs, clear to the tips of fingers that were wrapped tightly around the wooden base of the torch. Inside his chest his heart hammered, pounding deafeningly in his ears, his throat dry as the words reverberated through his mind.

Gisborne was still watching him, a hard, uncaring gaze that cut straight through him. The dilemma he was being faced with was a harsh one. The people inside the mill were Robin's men; he could not so easily kill them. But refusal would lead to his own life that was lost, and Collin had a foreboding feeling that the mill would burn with or without his consent.

He took a step closer, toying with the idea, trying to consider if his life was worth such a cause that would not see its way through. The trio inside would not find escape; Collin was no fool, the area was too heavily guarded. Collin had been with Gisborne earlier, watching the three men slowly approach the mill from a distance. Even in the darkness he had recognized John's bulky form, and then the two comparable ones thereafter.

What he couldn't figure out was why. Robin had already taken the silver; a slight detail he had failed to mention to Gisborne. It really had been incidental, for he had never meant to stumble on the unconscious guards in the forest. The woods in the back area were not considered part of his normal patrol, but nature did have a way of calling at inconvenient times.

But as perplexed as he was of his find, his attention could not be drawn away from the light ruckus deeper in the forest, and his eyes had just managed to catch the retreating cart, piled with bags, Robin himself leading the way. It had been amusing then, Collin understanding then what his plan had been. He had left the guards to their own devices, an explanation budding in the back of his mind should the need for one arise. So he had never expected to see the mill invaded.

Maybe they were not Robin's men, he reasoned, taking another step, his eyes wandering up the side of the old building. But he could not fool what his eyes had seen for certain, and he could not explain it. He could feel Gisborne's eyes still on him as he reached out with the torch, the flames licking into the night, reaching out to the wood.

And if he survived this night, Collin knew he would not live much longer. If the guilt did not kill him, then Robin for sure would. His fingers tightened around the torch with an even firmer grip as he bit his bottom lip. He knew what had to be done, knew that he probably would not survive this night, but death would come his way by his choice or not.

Swiftly he turned on his heel, digging the toe of his other foot into the ground to brace himself as he swung the torch brutally, letting it fly through the open air. Gisborne barely avoided the projectile, not having expected the sudden turn, the man tripping over his own feet as he stumbled out of the way. Sword already free, Collin blocked the first few attacks with ease, falling quickly into a battle rhythm. He had spared often enough to know the footwork, the swordplay, and the subtle differences between a true jab and a simple bluff. But never had he fought against so many alone.

Surprise had been his ultimate ally, but that lasted but a brief moment, the guards around him snapping to attention as Gisborne swore out orders, the man moving back to his feet, removing his own weapon. Collin ducked the incoming jab, moving around another, working to get free from the confines he had situated himself in. But the situation had only turned from bad to worse as more guards surrounded him, blades drawn, a mixture of confusion and resentment crossing their faces as they approached what they thought to be one of their own. Thrown off by the simple thought, Collin hadn't seen Gisborne's approach, nor the fist that came at him until after it had hit its mark, dropping him to the ground.

He could taste blood, the warm liquid dribbling down his chin as he spat awkwardly, his vision blurring momentarily as his head swam. His sword was kicked away, rough hands hauling him back to his feet, holding him firmly. Struggling was pointless then, but neither would Collin give up so easily. His movements stilled though as Gisborne approached, a scowl still on his face.

"Wrong move," he growled, nodding to the other men. "Get back on the mill; Robin and his men will not escape, not this time."

Collin's expression was unchanging, but inside his mind worked quickly. The man believed that Robin was inside; believed he had caught them all. Of course, it made sense to him now. Only Collin knew of everyone in the man's gang. Robin was well back in the forest by now, which meant…that meant there was still a chance. It came with dim realization of why, but he knew that the how was more pressing at the moment.

"We should kill him, Sir Guy," Davis remarked quietly, a cold smile plastered on the man's face.

"In due time," Gisborne remarked, retrieving the torch from the ground. "He'll watch his friends die first."

It was in that moment that Collin knew he had to move, had to do something. Then one of the men holding him let go for a brief moment, trying to secure his grasp. Collin didn't waste any time.

A quick blow to one chin, kicking up with his knee to the other, Collin had downed both men easily. There were more curses, another bout of shock, and the man used the opportunity to move across the opening, mounting Gisborne's horse in one fluid motion.

The creature was panicked from the boisterous commotion, taking off in a wild gallop as he spurred the animal on. A few strides later he had gained enough control, heading for the forest. It was then he risked a quick glance behind him, spotting a few men following on foot. They were no real danger; Collin could lose them easily enough. The true threat remained with Gisborne's promise, and he could only hope he had enough time.

* * *

There had been more there than he had first presumed. By quite a bit. The feeling was an uneasy one, invoking curiosity as well as dread. Whatever reason this much silver was needed for could not be a good one. War taxes should be heading to the Holy Lands; not to Prince John. But whatever reason it was to be used for, would now have to wait.

Robin forced a smile, closing the bag up one more time, dropping it in the pile among the others. Between the three of them they had managed to dig out a deep pit in the side near the camp. It would not only keep the silver hidden, but it would keep it close as well. When Gisborne figured out his lot had been stolen, the man would no doubt comb the forest for it. Robin felt more comfortable knowing it was under his nose.

"That was close," Much told him, sitting down on the bedroll he had spread out. "Too close if you ask me. Do you have any idea what Gisborne would have done if he caught you again?"

He frowned at the other man, pretending to search his mind for answers. He of course knew, but outwardly he shrugged, playing on the man's naivety. "No…why don't you enlighten me?"

"He would kill you," Much answered simply.

"Nah," Robin shook his head, holding back a grin.

"Yes, he would," the man pointed out, "you would have been hanged. And if you think that I would have come and saved you once again, you're mistaken. Because I wouldn't."

"You would," Djaq cut him off, her concentration focused on sharpening her knife against a rock.

"Would not," he replied, turning back to face Robin. "You are always getting into trouble. You deserve to learn from your mistakes every once in a while."

"By hanging?"

Much nodded quickly, pausing with a frown shortly after as he thought it over. "Of course," he said subtly after a moment, "I wouldn't actually let you hang. Maybe dangle for a moment, teach you a good lesson."

Robin laughed, shaking his head. Much wasn't the most rational thinker, but given time he could sort things out on his own. Over time he had grown used to the man's unusual quirks, and come to learn when to listen and when to ignore. Robin was convinced that the man would be solely happy with a span of endless food and drink, as well as a roof over his head. It was the simple pleasures he doted in, but the man's loyalty was too high to trade in for such contentment. Already he had proven that more than once.

"Well," Robin said with a shrug, moving to sit down next to his old friend. "We got the silver out; good work, the both of you," he nodded to Djaq before turning back to Much. "And you, for your brilliant idea."

"Still don't understand how it's my idea. You are the one who thought of it."

"You gave me the idea," Robin pointed out. "Wouldn't have thought of it if it wasn't for you."

"So basically you can say it was all my doing," Much nodded, a smile crossing his face. "What do you know? See, I can do something right, from time to time."

"Don't let it go to your head," Djaq told him.

"I resent that."

"Of course you do," she answered, "It is true."

Robin shook his head, listening to the exchange as he leaned back against the rock face that their camp was built in-between. It had been a good day; the plan had worked, they had the silver, and they were all accounted for. At least the three of them. It was a small group; too small for his liking, yet there wasn't a lot he could do about it.

Tomorrow they would span out, hit the villages with a small bag of silver, making sure everyone got enough to last them a few days. They couldn't risk a wide distribution at the moment. Instead they would have to sort it out to smaller drops, more often. Gisborne would be harder to avoid, and for sure the Sheriff would be more than angry. Robin had already thought of the prospect of dogs, of guards combing through the forest. They would have to be more than careful in the coming weeks, and watch their backs closely.

His eyes snapped open suddenly, the camp around him growing quiet as they heard it, too. Robin had first imagined he had been hearing it, but the noise was growing, drawing closer. He met Much's gaze, then Djaq's, the woman nodding to him, confirming what he was asking. The call came again; short, loud and panicked, worry creeping into Robin as he listened.

"I know that voice."

Instantaneously he was on his feet, weapon in hand as he raced down the hill, weaving in and out of trees as he reached the main road, his breaths coming in short gasps as he saw the horse hastening towards them, the rider calling out to him once again. Frantically Collin pulled the beast to a halt, the horse rearing at the sudden movement.

"Robin, John, the others, Gisborne has them trapped."

"Where?"

"Master!" Much came running after him, pulling to a stop, his expression hardening as he caught sight of the newcomer. "You! What do you want?!"

"Where?" Robin pressed the question again, cutting over Much's.

"The old mill," he breathed, "Gisborne set the trap there; everything's boarded up. Robin, they can't get out.

"Another trap?" Much questioned, shaking his head. "We won't fall for it."

Robin barely heard the statement, his eyes locking instead with the frazzled man still atop the horse. Djaq's approach was silent, but he didn't even respond when she placed a hand on his forearm. "Robin…"

"There's more," Robin said quietly, nodding to him. "Tell me."

"Gisborne's not taking them to the castle; he's going to burn it."

"What?"

"You can't believe what he says," Much laughed nervously next to him. "I mean, he's lied once before; this is another one. Gisborne found out we took the silver, and he wants it back."

"Robin please," Collin shook his head, "Trust me, I am with you."

"We go," Robin said quickly, already moving back up the hill to fetch the horse. He hadn't gotten far when Much stopped him, shaking his head.

"Master, please! Be reasonable, you cannot just go rushing off into danger."

"We do not have time! John and the others are in trouble," Robin told him harshly, "because of me. I will not abandon them."

"How do you know what he's saying is true?"

"I don't," Robin told him quietly, grasping his arm for but a moment, "but that's a risk I'm willing to take. If you come with me, do it on your own will, not mine." He gave his arm one final squeeze before turning away. If Collin was telling the truth, then every second counted.

* * *

It was a daring plan, but it was all he had. Both John and Allan listened, listened as though it would be the last words they would ever hear. Part of Will knew that it more in likely would be. It would take too long to pry the boards loose from the windows, and by that time the archers would have released their weapons. They were no Robin Hood for sure, but even they couldn't miss at such close range. Will knew that their way out was the same way they had come in. It would mean a sudden attack, and most likely a sudden death, but it was better than sitting and waiting for the end to come.

He had only finished explaining a portion of a plan when a commotion broke out outside, Will moving to the window after a moment. His gaze saw the lay of the land below through the cracks in the boards, a frown crossing his face. "The guards...they're gone."

Allan was next to him, as was John, the three taking turns peering outside. They could not be seen, but they could be heard. "Maybe they've moved to the front," he whispered quietly, exchanging looks with the men.

"Coming to take us to our maker," Allan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "We're going to die."

"More in likely," Will agreed.

"You're supposed to say no. That's what Robin always says."

"Well I'm not Robin," he snapped angrily, shaking his head as the guards slowly reappeared. What had drawn their attention away, he wondered?

"Obviously," the man shook his head. "So what's your plan again? Run straight into certain death?"

"Something like that."

Will let out a sigh, pulling away from the window. "No demands, no calls for surrender. What are they waiting for?"

"Ransom?" John suggested. "For Robin?"

"Robin's not coming," Will told him quietly. "He wouldn't be foolish enough to try and risk this. Even if he was, he would have already been here."

"Besides," Allan added, "They don' know it's just us."

"True," Will agreed quietly. "When we get out, head for the forest. Do not stop, for anyone."

"This I do not like," John shook his head slowly. "We go, together."

"I don't think there will be a together John," Will shook his head sadly. "You go, and you don't look back."

Allan nodded, a frown on his face. His expression changed slowly, from dejection to confusion as he sniffed the air. "Not being funny, but it smells like something's burning."

He smelt it in the next moment as well. A deep, smoky odor, lingering in the air. Will knew there were still many things in this life in which he had to learn, but the one thing he already knew was the simple fact that where smoke was, a fire was surely near. And his ears could hear it; the sound reaching his ears, growing in strength as he could start to see the wisps of smoke drifting through the air.

Then the darkness of the room was chased away abruptly as flames licked into the room from the ceiling above, parts of the blazing material falling through, landing in a clutter on the floor. There were shouts between them as they scattered, Allan stamping out the burning mass to little avail.

"What are you doing?" Will yelled at him, grabbing him by the arm, pulling him out of the way as more of the roof began to cave in. "That's not going to help, get out of here!"

John had already taken the lead, well into the next room as he made his way for the stairwell to the main room below. Will shoved Allan ahead of him, turning back as the heat of the fire licked at him from behind, his attention balancing between fear and astonishment at the power such a minute thing could hold. Above him the roof creaked, groaning from the support it had lost, beginning to cave in.

Will forced himself to move, racing towards the next room. Ahead of him he could already see Allan moving down the stairwell, following John's lead. He was only mere moments behind, reaching the room as more of the roof fell behind him, the dry material encumbered in flames.

Part of him felt as though he was going to make it, even if only just, but his slight anticipation was short lived as the rest of the roof began to collapse, following in succession with its predecessor. Will came to a halt, narrowly missing the crumbling wreckage, balancing in the doorframe, the one and only strong point of the upper floor.

But his stronghold would not last forever, he knew, the flames devouring the wood around him hungrily. Already the heat licked the cold air about him, but worse yet was the thick clouds of smoke billowing into the air, stealing away what little air he had left.

Will dropped to his knees, holding the frame of the door between his hands, his eyes just catching the clear path along the wall. Bits of fiery debris dropped from above, the very ends of the ceiling still holding strong where roof and wall conjoined. He could still make it, if he hurried.

Moving to his feet he kept to the wall, hood up to protect from the burning embers that were drifting downwards, and from the sparks shooting off the burning mass consuming itself in the midst of the room. The building itself was groaning in protest at the sudden treatment, trembling under his bare hands as Will edged along slowly, hurried gasps of air filling his lungs that refused to satisfy him.

Then there was another groan, one that was much louder, much deeper, a fierce shudder racing through the wall near him. It was barely a warning, but Will knew in the pit of his stomach that there wasn't much hope as the rest of the roof came crashing down upon him in one giant burning heap.

**TBC**


	15. Rescue

**Eep; yeah, I left it at a cliffie, but rest assured the next part is here. Thanks goes to Kegel once again for a partial beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine and I take them graciously, (okay, maybe not graciously, but still they belong to me)**

**Thanks for your reviews! Read, and enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Rescue**

It could have been a trap; Robin had already known that much. Still he would question it later, would work with it as things went along. With quick motions he spurred the horse into a faster gallop, moving up alongside Collin, keeping their pace roughly the same.

Hooves pounded into the dirt road, tearing up the terrain as they hurried along, passing by a bundle of trees that grew in a circular form just off to one side. Here Robin pulled back, forcing the creature to turn off the road and onto a narrow trail, relying on memory to guide him. The horse faltered, slowing down slightly despite Robin's protests, unsure of its footing in the dark, but soon the trial widened, the ground evening out. Collin had followed him as well, the confusion obvious in the man's voice, but Robin had little time to dwell on that matter.

This path led them into Locksley from the side, which gave him an advantage in more than one way. It was quicker, if only by a few minutes, and if Collin was setting a trap, then Robin would have the element of surprise. This would also give him a clear view of the mill; prepare him for what he might find. But already the apprehension had set in, for he could see the eerie glow rising over the top of the trees.

It wasn't just what he could see though, but rather what he could hear. A mixture of cries, of shouts and yells intermingling with each other into one chaotic clamor. Robin spurred the horse on through the last rim of trees, slowing as he approached the village. The flames had consumed the building far in the back of the village, and peasants were running amok in efforts to quell the flames, only to be chased away by the line of guards surrounding the mill.

Collin had slowed his own steed down, his head shaking in disbelief, "Robin…I'm sorry…"

"No," Robin shook his head, cutting him off as he pointed. He had seen the motion with his eyes, and then only just barely. But years in the war had left him with the ability to spot even the smallest of spats from a good distance, and this was more than just a simple quarrel. It was a full blown fight, and Robin could just glimpse Little John's form moving through the chaos.

Once again he spurred his horse on, holding the reigns loosely in one hand as he began to ready his bow. In the next motion he dropped the reigns, trusting that the horse would keep the current path as he aimed, firing the arrow quickly. The projectile soared through the air, embedding into the arm of a guard who had been advancing on Allan. The other man scrambled quickly to his feet, locking eyes with him with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

"Robin!" John called out to him, as he approached, Robin slowing the horse considerably, the creature frightened with all the commotion.

"Get to the forest, now!" he ordered, kicking out, as a man tried to swing at him. Robin disregarded the bow in favor of his sword, using it to block another attack, his height on the horse giving him slight advantage. His eyes searched the outlying area. Everyone was accounted for, except Gisborne and…

"Where's Will?"

"He was right behind me, I swear," Allan breathed, drawing closer to the pair as Collin arrived in the fray.

Robin glanced from one to the next, then back to the mill that was still engulfed in flames. Already bits and parts of the building had fallen, sparks filtering up and catching more dry material on fire. Already villagers were stamping out the fire, trying to keep it from spreading, calling out to him for his help, but on the inside he was numb, shaking his head slowly.

"Leave, get to the forest," he said quickly, dismounting and looking up at Collin. "That means you as well."

"Robin!" John shook his head. "Not this, you cannot."

"I have to John," he told him quietly, "I must. I will be back in the forest, now go!"

The truth was he didn't much like the prospect of it either. But neither would he abandon Will. The heat of the flames, even from here, could be felt, and Robin could only fathom of the heat inside, his mind casting back to the memories of the Holy Land, of how the heat there had made it unbearable. But this was a different kind of heat, he knew.

Robin pressed away from his men, turning back to his bow now as he fired off several more arrows, forcing the guards back least they be injured from the projectiles. He was quick on his feet, moving over the ground as he reached the front of the mill, one hand up to shield him from the array of sparks flying down. The door itself was busted clean open, most likely from John's doing, but it would only help him in the end.

Even as he reached the door he was brought to a stop. The dagger impaled the siding just mere inches from his head, causing him to jerk back quickly, fitting an arrow into his bow as he brought it up. Gisborne emerged a second later from the side, sword drawn as he came closer.

"I had figured you might be too much of a coward to gather the silver yourself, but even I wouldn't have put it past you to send in your own men," Gisborne told him coldly. "I could have you in there, but I'd settle for one if nothing at all."

There was little time for drivel, Robin moving the bow to one side as he let the string roll off his fingers. The reaction was one he wanted, Guy pulling back as the arrow flew near his face. Taking the small opportunity Robin dove forward, crossing the threshold and straight into the heat of the flames.

* * *

Passing out would have been a blessing. The pain was agonizing, sharp waves spiraling down his back and through his legs, his head pounding as more of the wood came crashing down, leaving him disoriented for the briefest of moments. But he shook it off, dust and soot flying from his hair as he did so. The same fine debris had also settled in his lungs, filling his chest and making it difficult to breathe.

Several harsh coughs filled the air, each one only causing more pain as Will tried to move, chunks of the roof rolling off his back and to the floor as he tried to push himself up. But the heavy beams that once supported the roof kept him pinned there, holding his legs fast at an awkward angle, grinding the bones against one another. Around him the fire still burned, moving from the center mass towards the floor, slowly eating up the wood between him and the pile.

Will coughed again as the heavy smoke filled the air, forcing his eyes closed against the stinging sensation. Gently he laid his battered body back down, trying to keep himself calm as he thought things through. His heart hammered in his chest, matching the throbbing ache in his body, and his fear only served to heighten his sensations, making things all the more worse.

Again he tired to pick himself up, only to come to the same conclusion. The beam would not budge, and Will could not turn himself around in order to reach it. Even trying sent sharp waves of pain coursing through his body, forcing him to give in.

His eyes closed as he laid his head back down, his breaths coming in short gasps intermixed with rough coughs as he struggled to breathe. Though the pain wasn't so bad when he remained still, it was not a comforting notion. Unless he did something, he would die, and though that risk had always been something he carried, this was not the way he had imagined it to be.

He had imagined it would be quick, relatively painless; instead he was trapped now, waiting for what he knew would come, without knowing when it would. So wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't noticed the sound at first. When it came again it was more of a confusion, Will suspecting that he was hearing it only because he wanted to. But when it came a third time, he knew for sure. Someone was calling his name.

He called out, but his voice was weak and rough from the coughing, and so he tried again, his heart pounding once more as he tried to push himself up. He could hear the feet pounding on the stairs, and he called again, a mixture of hope and confusion filling him as he wondered who would have been crazy enough to actually come in to find him.

Yet even he hadn't been expecting this, his eyes lighting up quickly upon seeing the other man. "Will?"

"Robin!" Will cried out, shaking his head as the man dropped to the floor, staying on his hands and knees as he carefully worked his way around the flames. He too was coughing, trying to still his breath as he reached out, urging Will to lie back down.

"What are you doing?" Will pressed him. He would not deny the fact that he was relieved to have the man here, but he was also curious to how Robin had even heard of their situation, and even more so to why the man had raced into the building in the first place.

Robin didn't respond, instead his hands reached over him, gripping the beam in his hands as he tried to lift it. Will cried out at the sudden pressure, his response forcing Robin back. The man was shaking his head, trying to catch his breath. He sat there for a moment, the two men breathing heavily in the midst of the burning building.

"Will," Robin breathed, finally turning to him.

Will nodded, feeling his stomach tighten. He knew what the man was going to say, that he was going to say he couldn't get him out of here. The same way Will hadn't been able to free Robin from the dungeons. He tried to find his voice, tried to reassure Robin that it was alright. Robin had done more than expected already, had risked his life just trying. That was enough, it had to be enough…

"This is going to hurt," the man apologized instead, drawing a bout of confusion from him. "I can't lift this very far, I need you to help me."

Will shook his head, coughing as he took in another breath. "I can't…Robin…"

"When I say go, I need you to move," he cut him off, not waiting for a reply as his hands gripped the beam once more. He moved one foot under him, bracing his shoulder against the beam as he turned back to glance at him. "Ready?"

Will nodded, feeling that it hardly mattered if he was ready or not. His hands braced the floor, pushing himself up slightly as Robin threw his weight into the beam. The same familiar pain returned, Will biting his lip to keep himself from crying out as the weight on his legs shifted. Robin called out to him, Will already dragging himself out, stopping as he felt one leg caught at the base of his boot.

Robin was bracing the beam as best as he could, but he couldn't hold it for long. Will bit his bottom lip again, holding his breath as he gave his leg a swift yank, pulling it free shortly before the beam slipped from Robin's hands. He hadn't moved very far, holding his breath as the pain swelled his body. His legs were sore, but the left one ached fiercely, pounding as though it had a heartbeat of its own.

Will grimaced as a hand fell on his side, Robin coming into his line of vision. "Can you walk?"

Walk? Will wanted to laugh. He had barely been able to crawl just a few seconds prior. Did the man expect him to fight as well? Run charging into the battle that surely awaited them outside? His ill humor died in the next moment as Robin gave him a sympathetic glance.

"Sorry, you don't get a choice," and with that unceremonious response Robin wrapped an arm around his waist, hauling him to his feet despite his protest.

Will gritted his teeth against the pain, leaning wholly on Robin for support as the man began to move towards the stairwell. The pain was tremendous, but there was hardly a chance to give into it, but what was more concerning was the fact that he couldn't put any weight on his left leg, the limb simply giving way with each step. Robin had noticed to, had noticed because he had compensated, switching sides so that Will could help by using his good leg, his other dangling helplessly in the middle as they made their way down the stairs.

Then he saw the doorway, could see the open way ahead and he felt like crying. Only moments before he had presumed he would die, and his grip tightened around Robin's shoulder as they neared. Flames here licked, too, but not as violently as it had been on the second floor, and at the moment the path was clear of any real danger. Then, as quickly as he had felt the relief, it melted into worry, Gisborne suddenly moving in the way, his sword drawn.

The man shook his head, watching them as Robin came to a slow stop at the bottom, lowering Will the ground carefully. Will braced himself, taking care not to injure his mangled leg any further as Robin took a defensive stance over him, his bow drawn and ready.

"No," Gisborne said coldly, "you're not getting away, not this time. Not again. Too many times you've ruined our plans, taken away what's rightfully mine. Not anymore."

"Then do with me what you will," Robin told him coldly, his voice steady as he answered. "But you leave my men out of it."

Will swallowed, shaking his head. This was a bad situation. Robin could not protect the both of them, and Will could not fight in his condition. Gisborne would kill the both of them in this way, and he was sure Robin knew it as well. But the man was unwavering, lifting his bow even more as the smoke continued to fill the air.

"Move, or this arrow will not miss," he warned coldly.

"You and I both know you don't have it in you," Gisborne told him quietly, taking careful steps towards him. "Some great war hero, you can't even kill to save yourself. You lost everything, Hood, your dignity, your title, even Marian."

Will actually jerked as the arrow flew through the air, the shaft burying itself deep inside the man's shoulder. Gisborne let out a howl as he dropped his sword, hand flying to where the arrow protruded, unaware of Robin's movements. The archer himself had taken a step forward, kicking out with his leg and catching Gisborne in the chest unaware, knocking the man to the side.

Again Will was hauled to his feet, Robin moving quicker this time than before as the mill began to groan under the conditions it was enduring. Will half-stumbled, half-clung to the man as Robin moved through the door and out into the open. Fresh air hit his lungs in a welcoming breath, his eyes seeing the rest of the group waiting, their own expressions lighting up as they raced towards them.

"I told you to go into the forest!" Robin scolded even as John reached them, wrapping an arm around Will to help counter his weight. Will grimaced at the transfer, Robin pulling away as he grabbed the reigns of a nearby horse, pulling the animal near.

"John, get Will out of here now" Robin continued, reassuming the role of leader without any thought. His gaze was drawn back to the mill as more of the building was beginning to collapse.

"Master," Much had pushed through the group, grabbing man by the arm. "We must go."

Will could have agreed, would have agreed, but cried out instead as John hoisted him up near the horse. Frantically he reached out, grasping the saddle to help pull himself up. He held the reigns as John mounted up behind him, pausing only long enough to make eye contact with Robin once more.

"Go," Robin urged him, turning to others. "The rest of you as well. You know where to meet."

"Robin," Will shook his head, but behind him John moved, grabbing the reigns from his hands and spurring the horse into a fast trot, and then into a steady gallop, leaving the village behind as they disappeared into the forest.

* * *

Will was his first concern; Robin urged the others to depart as well as he held his ground, readying another arrow should he have to use it. The few guards that were left standing seemed apathetic in trying to do anything, especially concerning their leader was nowhere to be seen.

It took more of an effort to in order to convince Much to leave, but finally the man turned and sprinted to the forest edge, Robin moving slowly after the path he had taken, watching their retreat carefully. He had been angry that his men had even returned, and surely it would be something they would have to speak about at a later time. Yet part of Robin was grateful, a part of his mind knowing that things would be considerably difficult in having to try and to escape alone with injured man.

Yet things would have been much easier if it had not been for Gisborne. It was an ironic thought, he mused, considering the entire ordeal would have not happened if it wasn't for the man. Still, some of the blame had rested with him he knew, partially because Robin had goaded Gisborne into setting the trap. Robin should have known that Will would have attempted such a risk, having not known the true nature of the set-up. Slowly he shook his head, coming to a pause, his arrow still ready to fly as he surveyed the scene before him.

The villagers were still trying to keep the fire at bay, and certainly would have their hands full for the remainder of the night. More calls and cries went up in the air, acknowledgements that there was still someone trapped inside, debris having collapsed over the door itself. The call confused him, Robin had already accounted for all his men, so he knew it was naught any of them who were trapped inside. Then the realization hit him.

Gisborne was still inside.

Anger filled him as he shook his head, moving to turn away. He didn't have time for this; his men needed him, Will needed him. Surely his injuries were severe, if not possibly fatal. The man had been bleeding heavily, that much could be seen right offhand. With Will being in so much shock, the man probably had yet to notice. Yet Robin knew once the fear and uproar died down, it would become very apparent. War had proven that many of times. Men did not always die during the heat of the battle, but after from their sustained wounds.

But even as he turned something stopped him, the anger and confusion only blossoming inside him even more. Robin tried to reason with himself, tried to convince the arguments inside his head that Gisborne deserved his fate. The man had tried to kill him, more than once, had tried to kill Marian, and now had gone after his men. It was cold blooded murder; the man was a traitor and he didn't deserve to live.

But he didn't deserve to die, not like this. The fate was far worse than what Robin would wish upon anyone, even his worst enemy. The question wavered in his mind, and the more he tried to deny it, the more apparent of what he should do became. With a cry of frustration he sprinted across the opening, lowering his weapon as he approached the mill. The villagers were calling his name, asking for him to help, but Robin pushed past them, pausing for only a moment as he drew near, the heat causing hesitation to brew inside of him.

Then he took another step forward, kicking out at the smoldering wood, knocking it out of the way as he dove back inside. Thick layers of smoke greeted him, stinging his eyes and stealing his breath as he moved further in. Even though he could not see him, Robin could hear the man well enough, and he followed the groans and gruff cries towards the furthest wall.

Gisborne was clambering on his hands and knees, pausing every so often to grab the broken shaft in his shoulder. He was moving about like a drunken blind man, hands wavering out in the air before him as he scooted about, as though he was trying to find the way back out.

Robin moved forward quickly, dodging the flimsy punch Gisborne tried to deliver at the sound of his approach. He knocked the man back with an easy kick to the side, backing off for a short moment. Gisborne let out a string of obscenities, coughing as he tried to rub his eyes. Robin moved forward again, grabbing the back of the man's leather coat and dragging him to his feet, leaving Gisborne stumbling and trying to push him away.

"Get up," Robin cried, half-pulling and half-dragging the man after him as he made his way back to the door. Gisborne had now wrapped his own hand around Robin's arm, trying to fight with him, only increasing the anger growing inside of him. Didn't the man realize he was trying to help?

The fresh air greeted him once more, Robin pausing just outside the door to disengage with the man. But Gisborne was not so willing to let go of the man he hunted for so long, his fingers digging fiercely into the archer's arm. Robin gritted his teeth against the pain, and brought his knee up, connecting with the man's stomach, dropping him to the ground in one motion.

Now free of his charge, and any guilt that had been lingering in him, Robin took off for the forest, knowing that his men would be waiting for him. Only when he had reached the tree line did he pause, glancing back on the village he once resided in. As much as he wanted to stay and help quell the fire, Robin knew that his welcome here was short lived, and with a firm shake of his head he turned and disappeared among the trees.

**TBC**


	16. Needed Time

**Thanks to my beta for catching all of my little mistakes (and my big ones too!)**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Needed Time**

He didn't have to go far; his men were waiting for him just inside the forest. They had listened, but not entirely to what Robin had particularly wanted. But he would argue later. For now, he was just trying to breathe. His breath still caught in his throat, the grime of the smoke clinging to his skin, sinking into his clothes in much the same way it had into his lungs. Several times he coughed, clearing his chest and breathing in the fresh cool air. His gaze drifted to where Will now sat, the man reclining against a tree.

Covered in soot and ashes from the fire he too was breathing hard and heavy, but Robin knew that was the least of his problems. Djaq had already moved to tend to him, her attentions focusing first on his leg. Her hands moved quickly, but carefully, pressing against the torn material, forcing quiet groans to escape from the man.

"I still can't believe you did that," Much commented, coming to a stop near him.

Robin barely met his gaze, thinking over what the man had said. It could have been the stressful worry, or it could have been the fact that too much had happened for him to focus properly. Then again, it could be the fact that Much just wasn't making sense.

"Did what?"

He finally forced the question out, coming out with a loss to what the other man was referring to.

"You saved Gisborne."

"What?"

This time it came from Will, Robin's attention being drawn back over to the injured man. His eyes were half-lidded, almost as though he was worn and exhausted, but Robin knew better. Slowly he made his way over to where he sat, Robin shrugging as he knelt on the forest floor. "What can I say? I'm a man of many surprises."

The comment was light, but the memory of the action still played heavily in his mind. Any attempt to explain it would only fail; he owed Gisborne nothing, and surely everyone would have been better off if he had just left the man to die. Even now it hardly made sense in his head, but Robin felt as though he had done the right thing. Carefully he set his bow on the ground, reaching up with a hand to the cut on Will's forehead.

The man flinched under his touch, but Robin kept his grip firm, pressing the palm of his hand to try and slow the bleeding. Near him Djaq had worked to cut the material free from his leg, allowing Robin a clear glimpse of the damage for the first time.

The gash itself was thin and long, but deep, the white of the bone showing through spurts of flesh and blood. Djaq was doing her best at trying to quench the flow of blood, but all of her supplies and medicines were back at the camp. She exchanged worried glances with Robin, voicing her concerns quietly. Robin nodded in return, already knowing they had to move. There was still color in Will's cheeks, but already it was starting to fade. More men were lost on the battle field this way than in any other.

"We need to move," Robin said softly, the noise of the village still in the background, troubling him. It was unlikely that anyone would try to follow them, but care still needed to be taken. Quickly he pulled off his outer tunic, handing it to Djaq before turning back to Will. "Can you walk?"

"Depends," he answered curtly, grimacing as Djaq wrapped the cloth around his wounded leg tightly. "Does my answer actually matter this time?"

"Not really," Robin gave him a sad smile, straightening up then as he grasped his bow. "John, I need you to help him. We need to get back to camp, and quickly."

"All of us?" Allan wondered briefly. He was leaning against one of the trees, rubbing his chin briefly, watching the group as they slowly began to move.

"Unless you wish to stay here," Robin indicated, taking the lead. He knew it wasn't rightly fair; there had been no discussion, no offering of welcoming them back into the group. He simply assumed that they would return. Now he wasn't questioning it, rather expecting that they would without invitation. Robin knew that they would come for now, but there was little telling what would happen once they reached the safety of their camp.

"Robin," Collin spoke now, watching them. "I'm sorry…"

With a shake of his head he cut the other man off. Right now there was no time, although Robin knew he owed thanks to the man. Yet that would have to be worried about later. Will's pained cries filled the air as John helped him to his feet, reminding Robin they had more important matters to worry about. And with little hope, those worries would not develop into confirmed fears.

* * *

Everything hurt. Every step, every breath, every move. The walk back to the camp was agonizing, especially since the group would not wait for him. John kept up a steady pace, sometimes waiting for him to get his footing, and at other times simply lifting him off the ground and carrying him several feet before stopping once again. As time went by Robin returned to his other side, offering more support, but a tormenting hurried pace as well.

Still his protests went unheard, despite the sickly feeling rising in his stomach, and the cold chill that was starting to race through his body. He knew his leg was bad; Will just didn't know how bad. Neither Djaq nor Robin had let him see it yet, and nor had any of the others commented on how it looked. It wasn't just his leg though; inside, his head throbbed relentlessly. He could feel the cut bleeding again, the blood mixing in with the grime that still covered his face. Then there were the burns.

They were slight, his cloak having protected him from most of the heated embers that had landed on him, but not from all. Nor did it ease the pain he felt at the slight movements. By the time they reached the camp he was nearly unconscious. Exhaustion plagued him fiercely, Will kept awake only due to the pain that refused to let him go.

Robin still had a firm grip on his arm, helping to lower him down on one of the bedrolls. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, his breath coming in short, hurried gasps. His stomach was protesting again, and Will closed his eyes, letting himself fade into a more comfortable reality that was beckoning him. He didn't get far though, brought out of his darkened trance as he was shaken lightly.

"Come on, Will, stay with me," Robin chided him, the archer's gaze meeting his. The man held up a flask, pressing it against his lips. The water was cool and refreshing, something his throat sought after deeply. He took several mouthfuls before Robin pulled it away, pouring some of the water onto a clean cloth.

He knew it would hurt, but it didn't lessen the pain as Robin pressed it against the cut on his head, wiping away the blood and grime. The man was talking, but it was hard for Will to focus, the words blurring together much in the same way his vision was. "What?"

Even he was surprised at the roughness of his voice, of how heavy the words sounded, Robin's gaze reflecting his own worry and concern. The man had faltered for a moment, resuming his role of cleaning only a moment after as though nothing had happened.

"I need you to stay awake," Robin repeated, his words slower this time. Will could hear him easier this time, but it didn't please him. Sleep was something he wanted, in fact his body was craving it, and try as he might it wasn't something he could deny. He could hear Robin talking again, urging him to return his requests, but already he was too far gone, every sense muddling as he slipped into the darkness.

Then the smell, bitter and putrid, filled his nose, invading his mind; sharp like an arrow. He tried to pull away, tried to hold his breath in an attempt to escape but he was held still, forced to breathe it in yet again. Will gagged, coughing at the stench, his eyes fluttering open with a groan as the world rushed back to him in a flurry.

Robin had one hand on his chin, his other wrapped about a small vial held directly under Will's nose. The archer's grasp held him still, forcing him to breathe in another round of the putrid concoction. The smell itself was almost revolting, and Will whimpered as he tried to turn from it again, with little luck, breathing in yet another dose of the unknown odor.

It was only then that Robin withdrew, recapping the small vial as he sat back on his haunches, Will breaking out into a coughing fit as he nearly gagged, well awake now. It was short lived, but the bitter taste still resided in his mouth, making him ill as he closed his eyes, seeking out the pleasant darkness he had witnessed only moments ago. Robin's coy voice convinced him differently, however.

"I will use it again," the man warned, prompting him to open his eyes if only slightly. "You can't sleep, not yet."

"Easy for you to say," Will rasped quickly, his breath catching in his throat as pain coursed through his leg. He hadn't seen Djaq move to clean it, distracted by the harsh doings of Robin instead. His gaze drifted down to where she was working, quickly and quietly, but he could not see any of the damage from his viewpoint.

Letting out a quiet groan he laid his head back down, his eyes drifting from Robin to the others in the group. Much was near the fire, busy pouring water from the flasks into their cooking pot, no doubt warming it for use for his injuries. John and Allan sat quietly further away, pretending to busy themselves to avoid meeting his gaze. Only Collin was watching him, surprise filling Will at the discovery.

He hadn't heard the entire story of what had happened, but he was thoroughly staggered that the man had returned with them. Yet that was not all, the gaze on Collin's face was disconcerting, alarming almost as the other man watched the process, dread filling him then as he came to the realization. Any weariness he felt before was replaced by anxiety, Will turning back to face Robin quickly, the same grim expression covering the archer's face as well.

"Am I…going to die?"

The question was hard to ask; everyone that was born eventually died, but Will wasn't sure if he was quite ready to face that reality just yet. Robin was quick in shaking his head, masking his unleashed emotions shortly after. "Not if I can help it."

It wasn't very comforting; Robin was determined in all things he put his mind to, but not even he could prevent the inevitable. Still it gave him comfort, knowing that the man was near; Will had never wanted to end on bad terms with Robin. He let out another gasp as Djaq continued to work, the woman nodding up to Robin then.

"Pressure, do not let go."

Robin had moved in almost instantaneously as Djaq pulled back, Will letting out another cry as the pressure returned, his leg throbbing under the treatment. The fear and worry racing through his body only served to worsen his position, a cross between lethargy and apprehension making him ill to the point he feared he would pass out.

Even as he closed his eyes he was brought back to reality as Robin squeezed his leg, causing a sharp wave of pain to travel through the limb and up into the rest of his body. "That hurts!"

"Good," Robin replied, watching him closely. "Do not close your eyes."

Will groaned, trying to keep his fears at bay as Djaq returned, fresh bandages in hand. The bottom of his legging still hung in scattered pieces, stained with his own blood, the woman using her knife to cut it away even further, peeling back the material to expose fresh skin. The bandage she had started up near his knee, wrapping it first around skin that was not even damaged, pausing only to replace Robin's hold with a fresh patch of cloth, and a concoction of mixed herbs before applying the rest of the bandage quickly.

She was talking to Robin quietly now, words which Will could not hear, and even though he strained his ears all he received was a muffled tone. The man nodded at her words though, turning to face him for a brief moment, the expression on his face unreadable as he moved to his feet.

"What now?" he asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

"Rest, you need to rest." Djaq answered, wiping her hands on the front of her leggings, moving nearer to his head to examine the cut now.

"And you'll stay off that leg," Robin reminded him, removing his quiver and arms. He set them on the ground, nodding towards John then. "Take over for Much, we will return shortly."

There were many questions he wanted to ask, many answers he wanted to receive, but he was afraid to hear them all the same. He could no longer see Robin, the man already departing with his comrade into the depths of the forest. But his attention was not focused on that for long, wincing as Djaq ran her fingers along the cut on his forehead, Will drawing back from the contact. She smiled apologetically, giving him the space he desired, her voice quiet but warm. "Sleep; I will wake you if you need to be."

* * *

He had left his weapons back at camp in order to travel light; they needed to be quick. Djaq had done what she could, slowing the bleeding to a slow trickle, but unless they stopped it altogether they were going to lose him. Yet the challenge was not going to be easy; the dark of the night still hung in the air, limiting their sight when they needed it most of all.

Robin knew what they were looking for, and had passed what he knew to Much, separating from him shortly after. Every few feet the archer would stop, stooping low to the ground so the light of the flame would brush over the ground, aiding his eyes in what he was seeking. The name itself was unfamiliar to him, but Djaq had described it fairly well; she herself would have gone searching for it, but knew, as well as Robin did, that she was needed back at the camp. The coming hours would play the biggest role in Will's fate. Just as it had in Marian's…

He stilled at the thought, his vision becoming clouded as he remembered that long and dark night. The same icy feeling returned as he had once felt, a mixture of hopes and fears intermingling into a painful existence. The knowledge of the severity of the situation, and yet the denial to accept that it could happen was as strong now as it had been then. For Robin, that knowledge had come almost too late with Marian, and his heart had broken when he feared her dead. But even life itself could prove otherwise, and she had returned from wherever she had gone, a feat that even now Robin could not explain.

But even though she had lived, Robin had lost her in life. For her safety, for her father's safety, they had both left, slipping away in the night all those months ago. He missed her, missed her with all his heart, and yet he knew he could never truly have her. Not until things were set right that was, and even then Robin was no fool. They had once been betrothed, but that had been many years back, when they were still young and carefree. That engagement had ended long ago. He would be naïve to assume they would just pick up where they had left off.

That would be something to worry over later, he knew, chiding himself as he went back to his task. The love he held for Marian was not the same he held for Will, but it was a kind of love nonetheless. It was the type of love that was often felt between family, or even brothers perhaps. There were many scenarios running through his mind, Robin knowing that he could have prevented a lot of this if he had only paid heed to the words spoken earlier between his men.

Another issue that would have to be dealt with later. There would be a lot for later, he knew, but all of that was in the back of his mind as his fingers came to rest on the plant he had been searching for. With a quick whistle in the air Robin dug the end of his torch into the ground, pulling his dagger free moments before Much appeared. He knew the man had been close by, and he motioned to the cluster of plants in front of them.

"Take everything," he warned, digging the blade of his knife into the dirt. He was not sure which parts Djaq would need, and Robin would rather be safe than sorry. They would have to collect what they could carry, and hurry back to the camp where the others were waiting. Djaq would have the rest of the night ahead of her, and Will even longer if he was to pull through.

The thought caused him to shake his head, Robin pausing for a brief moment to draw in a breath. No, he would pull through…he had to. They had gotten him this far, they couldn't give up on him now.

**TBC**


	17. Coming Together

**Sorry for the long wait, been busy with a number of things. Sequel is planned, read at bottom for more details. **

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Coming Together**

It felt as though the night could stretch on forever. Perhaps it did, because Robin hadn't even seen the breech of morning until it was into the day. His mind had been preoccupied, his hands busy. He had been right about the plant, the strange materials unknown to him but so familiar with Djaq who had worked with it quickly. Her skill was more of an art than a knowledge he realized, watching her hands move with graceful motions, communicating back and forth with Much who readied a fire to use.

Will slept, fitfully yet heavily, aware of only the brusquest movements, but even then he did not linger long in the land of the coherent. While it was unnerving, Djaq reassured them differently. It was expected, even wanted. His body needed the rest most of all, and for the following days he would be overly worn even with his limited routine. And it was sleep that would heal him the quickest.

While Djaq kept vigil over their fallen comrade, Robin had requested Much's aid once more. The yearning for the knowledge of what was happening about them was far too great for him to ignore. Robin left, appointing John to take the lead as he trekked back out towards Locksley. It was a much slower pace than before. That was due to several reasons.

One was due to the apprehension. Robin wanted to know as much as he didn't want to know. It hadn't been a choice to leave the village in such a state, but Will, and his men, were more important than property; property that could be restored. But it was still his village, the same village that Dan Scarlet had helped build, the same village that Robin had spent most of his years growing up in. If it was ruined, by Gisborne's thoughtless actions, then Robin wasn't sure of what he would do.

And Gisborne was another reason that prompted the slow pace. Robin had wounded the man. There was no doubt in his mind the man deserved it; after all Robin had given him plenty of warning before following through with such an act. But guilt still tore inside of him. The wound itself was not fatal, but the following effects could be if not properly taken care of. And no doubt the recent actions would also prompt a higher price on his head…Gisborne surely would be desperate to make him pay, despite the fact that Robin had also saved his life.

Several times now Much tried to broach the subject, but each time Robin dismissed it. How could he speak of something he knew nothing of? Much was a simple man; he couldn't understand the deep thoughts that plagued his mind. Nor did Robin wish for him to. A simple man should have only simple thoughts, and enjoy them as such. Worries and burdens were not meant for such a soul, and Robin could not share them even if it would mean a chance to lessen the weight he was carrying.

What he saw at Locksley, however, did. The mill itself was in ruins, smoldering in the early morning light but clearly not a threat any longer. It was clear the villagers were worn and tired from having battled the blaze, wandering about with forlorn expressions as they tried to complete their morning chores. A thorough scan gave Robin confidence as Gisborne was nowhere in sight, and the man chanced a move into the village.

Some information was gathered at their inquiring, a mixture of remorse as well as felicitations on his courageous deed. Whether they were referring to his feat of saving Will, or going back for Gisborne he would never know, but Robin passed regrets along with well wishes to those he could, leaving them with a collection of coins from the earlier silver hoard they had taken. It would see them through the following weeks, and he left them with careful words to hide it well.

From there, Robin sent Much back to camp in spite of the man's protest. It hadn't taken long, Much would only question him so many times before he obeyed. Robin waited till his form disappeared into the woods before setting out in a new direction himself.

Word from the villagers had stated that Gisborne had returned to Nottingham Castle to seek treatment for his injuries. Various stories claimed anything from that the man had stridden out of the village under his own power, clear to the grotesquely outdone ones that his guards had rushed his quivering and flailing body through the woods on a make-shift stretcher as blood cascaded to the ground. Though Robin hardly believed that was the case, he needed to know for sure.

Another long trek, especially by foot, and still Robin failed to notice the time that went by. It was all one long event for him, feelings of guilt and remorse filling him so full it was hard to breathe at times. His rash decisions had caused the upheaval in his gang, had forced them apart with bitter ends. He could have prevented it, could have seen it coming if only he had paid attention. But he hadn't. His own thoughts and feelings enwrapped in a time and a dimension that he himself only knew. Will had been right.

He was still recovering from the previous event. Physically he was perfectly fine; his wounds were nearly healed if not so already, and none of the measures he had endured had left him any worse for the wear. But emotionally had been another matter altogether. Now he not only battled the demons from the war, but the terrors that sprung forth from his time in captivity, however brief it had been.

Pain itself was never a pleasant sensation, and it wasn't the physical that caused the worst of sensations. It was the knowledge of being powerless, of having to submit to another without say. Gisborne had unleashed his wrath from time to time during his short hold, and Robin had been unable to prevent any of it. That was what had terrified him the most. Of waking, and not knowing when or for how long the quiet inner-sanctum would last.

By every mean, and every measure in his body, Robin knew he would be justified to kill Gisborne where the man stood. Bloodshed in the Holy Lands had weakened him, had presented him as a coward in the eyes of those who surrounded him. But true courage came not from doing, but rather from withholding. By granting Gisborne his life, and sparing it when it should rightfully be taken, Robin knew he had moved beyond that assumption. The assumption that one must kill in order to make a difference. A fool-hardy assumption.

But like a fool, Robin was not entirely so. His days of killing were not over, no matter how much he wanted to believe it to be so. For though some problems could not be solved with a sword or an arrow, there were those that could not be solved without them. And knowing when to stay your blade, and when to cross them, was a valuable trait that anyone could learn given the time.

The difficultly lay in the pretense that what was once before would always be, but human nature was folly because it was ever-changing even without the knowledge or perception of doing. Repeating a notion purely out of the habit of knowing it had worked before was as dangerous as it was foolish. Though Robin had known this, somewhere in the back of the deepest parts of his mind, he had continually ignored it.

He had gone off the perception that his men would return, and so hadn't seen the entire piece of the puzzle, and therefore had fallen into the same trap he had warned others about so many times. A blunder that had nearly cost not just the prospect of life, but the potential of trust from those he had worked so hard to regain and hold strong. And one life still hung in the balance.

And these were the thoughts that so consumed his soul and mind that Robin hardly noticed the passing of time, realizing only when he arrived at Nottingham that the day had drifted from the morning and into the phase of noon. He switched from his thoughts, sheltering them deep in his mind, concentrating instead on finding a way in. Nottingham itself was easy to get into, but the castle was another matter. Through luck, through skill, and unsuspected distraction, Robin managed well enough.

He traveled the same hallways, the same corridors he knew so well. His mind had learned them all, the way no longer a befuddling maze that led him astray. Robin's steps were careful and precise, edging closer to the room he knew would be occupied with Gisborne should the man be resting. Another glance, one last look, and he slipped inside unseen.

Though it was in the midst of the day it was no surprise to find the man lost in a restless sleep. He lay on the fanciful bed, a bandage wound tightly about his shoulder where the original wound was sustained. Burns, light in touch and hardly tingeing the skin could be seen in spattered arrays about his chest, neck and face. Robin knew he looked similar, if only slightly. The flickering coals has warmed his skin upon contact, and though he had yet to address them any attention, Robin knew in his mind they were no more prominent than the marks that Gisborne bore.

For several long moments he studied the other man; one could almost say he was infatuated with Gisborne's prone form, but that was hardly the case. Robin was listening as much as he was watching, hearing the stifled breaths that came from the man, his eyes catching the rise and fall of the man's bare chest. No sign of fever, nor was there an indication that copious amounts of blood had been lost. These were all promising signs, and Robin felt his confidence returning, moving to leave the room.

The motion itself was so slight that it was almost missed. But Robin had been prepared, had prepared himself before even venturing inside, and even as Gisborne moved, Robin had his bow ready, an arrow notched and aimed, ready to fly free if he should so choose.

The look on the man's face was a cross of disbelief and slight apprehension. Robin had already shot him once so it was natural for him to assume that Hood could do so again. The mere thought must have crossed his mind, for Gisborne halted his movements, residing between a reclining and a sitting position, forcing most of his weight back on his elbows.

"Hood," he breathed, his eyes flicking to his sword that was just within reach. For a moment he started to move, but withdrew as Robin called him on it.

"Do not move," he warned, Robin forcing his voice to remain low. He did not need another confrontation in this tiny room. This encounter itself had not been planned. Robin had only wanted to make sure the man would actually live.

"What? Come to finish off the job?"

A goad; Robin was wise enough to ignore it, keeping his aim level. He extended a foot, inching forward slowly and never breaking eye contact. With a few short steps he was close enough to knock the weapon away from the bed, the sword clattering onto the floor noisily. Robin didn't stop there, scooting it out of harm's way to ensure his own safety. Even a wounded Gisborne could be dangerous, and he didn't intend of presenting the man with such an opportunity.

"You never lost your taste for blood," Gisborne continued, his gaze searching the room, perhaps running his tongue to bide his time until he solved the mystified puzzle of how to disentangle himself from such a mess. "Couldn't have the satisfaction of killing me when the fire about had me, could you?"

Or maybe his hopes resided in the yearning for someone else to come along. But Robin knew how Gisborne operated; there was no doubt in his mind that Gisborne had sent everyone away with strict orders to not interrupt him during his sleep.

"You are lucky I came back for you," Robin finally answered, his eyes narrowing as he watched the man. "I doubt it is a mistake I will repeat again."

"Was it a mistake?" Gisborne's voice was rough, the man inching upwards into a sitting position. Robin let him, but shook his head when the man tried to move to his feet. Gisborne backed down, relenting, knowing he was in no position to bargain.

"And if I say no?"

"Then it proves you are a fool as well as a coward," the man laughed. "A man does not help his enemies, he prays for their death."

"Then maybe that's the difference between us," Robin answered coyly, a smile crossing his face. "Men of our word…but I would never wish to be a man like you."

He turned then, dodging out the door in one quick motion. What he said must have confused the man, or maybe Gisborne was returning the unspoken favor by giving him a chance to leave. Robin was nearly out of the castle before his howling voice could be heard through the corridors, orders barked out for his capture.

They were easy to avoid, by this time Robin had already left the castle grounds, disappearing into the open among the other villagers. He didn't pause, didn't look back, just simply left, beginning his long trek back, fearful of what might await him upon his return to camp.

* * *

It was night again by the time he returned. Fear and anxiety among his men was obvious, but it was a calming effect as he stepped out from the trees and into the open space. Robin said little, his first questions inquiring about Will. The man had slept most of the day, waking up a few times in between to sup and drink, but little else. A mixture of herbs, and the plant he and Much had fetched the night before had done well to staunch the bleeding, and had even helped calm the fever that was brought about as a result.

The news was as promising as it was disheartening; there was a chance the man might not be able to walk soundly again. A limp could prove disastrous in even the slightest of confrontations, but Robin had seen men recover from worse. Time would tell what was to be, and Robin knew he had to accept it as such.

He passed a few more quiet words onto Djaq, listening between her and Much to bring himself up to speed. The group themselves hadn't done anything to really brag about. For the most part they had stayed close to the camp in his absence, hunting and gathering wood all the while awaiting his return. The questions came up to his whereabouts, but Robin disregarded them, his gaze instead on the lone figure at the top of the hill.

"Been like that most of the day."

Robin would have been embarrassed to admit to it, but Much had actually startled him. Robin met the man's gaze, masking the sudden alarm with ease. "He hasn't left?"

Much shook his head, prompting a sigh from Robin. Collin no doubt had a multitude of choices to make. Returning to Nottingham or the castle was no better than assigning himself a death sentence. Even if he left the forest, venturing in the villages, it was possible he would be called out. Dressed in the garb of a castle guard, especially one in Gisborne's line, was not favored among the villagers. If anyone recognized him as the guard Gisborne was no doubt after, Collin would be lucky if it was just his life that was lost.

"Where are you going?"

The question was asked just as he started to move. Robin turned, shaking his head at the inquisitive man. "Stay here."

"Why?"

He let out a sigh, "Must you question everything I say?"

"Yes," Much answered quickly. "I need to know if you have any more brilliant ideas that are going to get one or all of us killed."

It was testing his patience; more so because Robin was starting to believe that all of this truly was his own blame. Instead he calmed himself, a simple reminder that Much was only trying to help. "I am not going far, but you must stay behind. I need to speak with him."

He didn't give the man a chance to answer, simply turned and left, trusting that Much would follow his request. It was apparent he had, for Robin arrived at the top of the hill alone. Collin barely glanced his way, his gaze instead watching the forest that spread out below them. Not much could be seen in the darkness, but Robin knew that he was lost in thought, rather than interest at what was before them.

Nothing was said between them for a time, each man quiet and content with being lost in their own thoughts. Yet it was Collin that finally spoke, voicing his concerns into the night air. "Is he going to make it?"

Robin nodded, "Djaq says the worst of it is over; it will take much longer for his leg to fully heal; we will have to lie low for some time until it does. We cannot risk injuring him further."

Collin nodded, seemingly grateful for the answer, but his response next surprised Robin. "I already knew about Will; I was referring to Gisborne."

At first Robin was going to deny it, but as he speculated about it, realization hit him that it would not matter. None of his other men had guessed to where he had been going, or where he had actually gone. Yet Collin had seen right through the guise, hadn't guessed, just simply knew.

Robin cleared his throat, nodding as he did so. "He will live; far better than he could have been."

"Far more than he should have been," Collin replied dimly, pausing for a moment. "Why did you save him?"

"I don't know; maybe because every man has a chance to prove himself differently than what he is perceived as."

"You don't actually believe that."

Robin laughed, shaking his head as he thought it over. Marian had said something once in a similar fashion; he could not remember what exactly, but it was the sole reason she had believed in the man despite his wrong doings. He let out a small smile, turning to Collin now. "You changed."

"Not entirely," Collin disagreed. "I realized before that I had been a fool; that was all."

"And you still made the decision you felt was right, even when others about you claimed it was not."

"You were away at war too long. It's filled your head with muddle."

Robin laughed, growing more serious now as he thought it over. "What will you do?"

Collin shrugged, shaking his head. "What is there that I can do? I can't return to the castle, nor my homestead. Any prospect of living a normal life is now gone. I have only my grandmother, and convincing her to leave the castle is not an easy prospect. I may venture to the Holy Lands, see if I can find my father but that feat is next to impossible; and then there would be no one to see to my grandmother."

"You could stay here," Robin offered.

"Somehow I doubt your men will welcome me with open arms."

It was true; even now, after what Collin had done, there was still mistrust. Once a traitor, always a traitor, simply because old habits were hard to break, and treachery was a hard thing to undo. It was difficult to trust once that fragile thread was broken. But still, he had hopes. "They could learn."

But Collin was shaking his head, watching him now. "I will try and see if I can fetch my grandmother come morning; we can head east, she has family out that way. It would be enough to start a new living. She's old, she deserves to live the remainder of her life in relative peace, even if it is only an illusion."

"Let us help you then; the least we can offer."

"No, you have business here, Robin. Your men need you. I can manage well enough on my own."

He had never heard the truth spoken so clearly before, and Robin was once again reminded of the predicaments still at hand. There would be issues, many of them that he and his men would face in the coming days if not weeks. Times were still hard, and this latest setback hadn't helped out any. With a nod he relented, parting ways with the man as he returned to the camp below.

He ignored Much's questioning gaze, seating himself down near the fire instead, his gaze trained on the flickering flames. Even though there were no spoken words, it was clear there was a passive calm between his men now. Half the lot was now asleep whereas the others were lost in quiet thoughts, the familiar breaths and gentle snores filling the air around them. For once, in quiet some time, things were beginning to come back to order.

* * *

Morning was not a pleasant sensation to wake to. Not only was the ache in his body fierce, but there was another underlying sensation that could not be ignored. Will had half a mind to ask for help, but at the same time he still had his pride despite his earlier folly. It was a shame that memory had evaded him throughout most of the last day, but he could remember vividly of where he had failed.

A glance about the camp brought forth the assumption that it was still early, as did the light of the day. Around him the others were sleeping, aside from Robin who was nowhere in sight. It wasn't a puzzling scenario; Will could remember Robin's sleeping habits well enough to know the man wasn't always around. The thought only encouraged him more.

With careful, deliberate movements he was able to make his way to his feet, holding to the side of the camp to help position his weight. He took it slow, biding his time so that he would not wake the others. Any amount of weight on his injured leg was painful, and the rest of his body was stiff, making for a hard feat. But he managed.

Once outside of the camp itself, he was able to let go, if only a little. He was able to stifle most of the cries and groans, and those that managed to escape were quiet, even in the stillness of the morning. Though he hadn't it in mind to wander far, he still had gone further than originally planned, not stopping until he felt safe and secure, relieving himself a good pace away from the opening of the camp.

It was here he remained for several following minutes. He still didn't feel up to par, wasn't sure if ever would again. But already he could hear Djaq's voice in his mind, chiding him, telling him differently. The woman never gave up, and for that Will was thankful. Yet even as her voice faded from his mind, another entered; one that was as unexpected as it was promised.

"What are you doing?"

Robin hadn't taken long to appear, passing his bow from one had to the other as he shook his head, surveying him. There was a frown on disapproval on the man's face, one that cut through Will deeply. Even after all this time he still yearned for Robin's favor, and it was maddening as it was disconcerting. He didn't want to be so dependent on the man, but neither could he just break off and go on his own. Already he had tried that once, and so far it hadn't turned out all that well. He didn't get the chance to respond.

"I thought I told you to stay off that leg."

"Seems to me that you were the one dragging me around the forest just the other day," Will commented sarcastically, wrapping a hand around a tree to help steady himself, removing the unwanted weight from his leg.

"That was necessary," the man answered, shaking his head, watching him.

"So was this."

"You could have asked for help, I was not far."

"I would like to retain the little pride I have left."

"Is pride worth injuring yourself further?" Robin wondered, voicing his concern. "You're lucky that wound did not kill you."

"Safe to say," Will muttered, "I figured the fire would. How did you know?"

"Friend told me."

Will knew Robin was referring to Collin at that point, but it wasn't the true question he sought. Clearing his throat he tried again. "He knew we were in Locksley, but how did you know I was still inside?"

The man shrugged, coming up alongside him, leaning against the tree. "I guessed."

It was ironic, both because it was slightly amusing, but then again it seemed to describe Robin fairly well. The man thrived on taking chances, of using the slightest of excuses to rush into danger. It was a part of who he was, but that latest feat could have been his last, and it did not ease the guilt building up inside of Will.

"You could have been killed," Will pointed out, voicing his thoughts.

"Take that chance nearly every day, Will," Robin was quick in reminding him.

He nodded, already knowing the truth of it. But there was still something bothering him, and the more he wanted to ask the question the less words that came to him. Finally he sorted it in his mind, but his heart still beat fiercely in anticipation; he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but another part suspected that Robin might speak untruly about his thoughts and feelings. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Did you mean what you said?"

Robin turned and looked at him, watching him skeptically, waiting for further explanation. Will cleared his throat, trying again.

"To Gisborne…back in the mill."

"That I would shoot him?" Robin asked confused now, "Obviously so, for I did."

That was true, and it caused him to laugh, but it wasn't the question burning in his mind. "You said we were still your men…even though we left, even though we did not return. We can't be both."

"You are always my men," Robin answered, his voice firm but low. His gaze was sincere, helping to banish the earlier fears Will had held. "Foolish decisions may separate us at times, but it doesn't upset the values that we hold. That's what makes us strong."

"So that is it then? We just come back, act like nothing has happened?"

"The choice is yours, Will," Robin told him quietly. "I want you back, but only if you want to be here. I cannot force you to stay."

Theoretically Will was sure he could. He had seen Robin restrain enough passing men that Will knew it was more than possible. Yet Robin would not likely follow through with it. The truth of the matter though was the fact that Will wanted to be back. Not because of what had happened, not because of his injury, but because he truly had missed being with the group. They were a family, the same people he loved and relied on.

"Where do we go from here then?"

Robin mused over the question for a while, his prolonged silence convincing Will at first that the other man had not heard, but finally he spoke, his voice quiet but warm.

"We stay quiet, keep to ourselves until you are well again. Then we go back to doing what we always have done. I may have been rash before, and I'll keep that in mind for next time. I'll learn to listen to my men, to heed what they have to say."

Will nodded, knowing to what he was referring to, forcing a smile then. "And I'll learn how to compromise; sometimes we need to take chances, I understand that now."

"I think we can work with that," Robin nodded to him, returning his smile. "We should get back to camp. The others will be waiting."

They would be…morning was now getting late, and by now everyone would usually be up, ready to start the day. It would be some time before they would fall back into their normal routine, but for now it was all they could offer.

**The End**

* * *

**Upcoming story, though I cannot promise when:**

**I'm Still Here**

Robin's life isn't the only one that becomes endangered when an injury leaves him struggling to remember what happened. When the Sheriff of Nottingham uses Robin's misfortune for his own gain can Robin's men help him remember who he is before the unthinkable happens?


End file.
